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THE  LOYALIST 


THE  LOYALIST 

A  Story  of  the 
American  Revolution 


BY 

JAMES  FRANCIS   BARRETT 


P.  J.  KENEDY  &•   SONS 

NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1920,  BY 
P.  J.  KENEDY  &  SONS,  NEW  YORK 

Printed  in  U.  S.  A* 


TO 

MY    SISTER 

AS   A    SLIGHT   TOKEN   OF 
LOVE   AND    ESTEEM 


2134356 


FOREWORD 

Historical  facts  constitute  the  background  of  this 
story.  Its  hero  and  its  heroine  are,  of  course,  fictitious ; 
but  the  deportment  of  General  Arnold,  the  Shippen 
family,  the  several  military  and  civic  personages 
throughout  the  story  is  described,  for  the  most  part, 
accurately  and  in  conformity  with  the  sober  truths  of 
history.  Pains  have  been  taken  to  depict  the  various 
historical  episodes  which  enter  into  the  story — such  as 
the  attempted  formation  of  the  Regiment  of  Roman 
Catholic  Volunteers,  the  court-martial  of  Major 
General  Arnold,  the  Military  Mass  on  the  occasion  of 
the  anniversary  of  American  Independence — with  as 
much  fidelity  to  truth  as  possible.  The  anti-Catholic 
sentences,  employed  in  the  reprimand  of  Captain 
Meagher,  are  anachronisms;  they  are  identical,  how- 
ever, with  utterances  made  in  the  later  life  of  Benedict 
Arnold.  The  influence  of  Peggy  Shippen  upon  her 
husband  is  vouched  for  by  eminent  authority. 

Due  appreciation  and  sincere  gratitude  must  be 
expressed  to  those  authors  from  whom  much  informa- 
tion have  been  taken, — to  John  Gilmary  Shea,  in  his 
"History  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  the  United  States"; 
to  Martin  I.  J.  Griffin's  "Catholics  and  the  American 
Revolution";  to  F.  J.  Stimson's  excellent  work, 
"Memoirs  of  Benedict  Arnold";  to  John  Fiske's 
"American  Revolution,"  and  to  the  many  other  works 
which  have  freely  been  made  use  of  in  the  course  of 


FOREWORD 

this  writing.  Cordial  thanks  are  also  due  to  those  who 
have  generously  assisted  by  suggestions  and  criticisms, 
and  especially  to  those  who  have  devoted  their  valuable 
moments  to  the  revision  of  the  proof  sheets. 

J.  F.  B. 


PART  ONE 


CHAPTER  I 

"Please  continue,  Peggy.  You  were  telling  me  who 
were  there  and  what  they  wore.  Oh,  dear!  I  am  so 
sorry  mother  would  not  give  me  leave  to  go.  Was  it 
all  too  gay?" 

"It  was  wonderful!"  was  the  deliberate  reply.  "We 
might  have  danced  till  now  had  not  Washington 
planned  that  sudden  attack.  We  had  to  leave  then, — 
that  was  early  this  morning, — and  I  spent  the  day 
abed." 

It  was  now  well  into  the  evening  and  the  two  girls 
had  been  seated  for  the  longest  time,  it  seemed,  on  the 
small  sofa  which  flanked  the  east  wall  of  the  parlor. 
The  dusk,  which  had  begun  to  grow  thick  and  fast 
when  Marjorie  had  come  to  visit  Peggy,  was  now  quite 
absorbed  into  darkness;  still  the  girls  had  not  lighted 
the  candles,  choosing  to  remain  in  the  dark  until  the 
story  of  the  wonderful  experience  of  the  preceding  day 
had  been  entirely  related. 

The  grand  pageant  and  mock  tournament,  the  cele- 
brated Mischienza,  arranged  in  honor  of  General 
Howe,  who  had  resigned  his  office  as  Commander-in- 
chief  of  His  Majesty's  forces  in  America  to  return  to 


2  THE  LOYALIST 

England,  there  to  defend  himself  against  his  enemies 
in  person,  as  General  Burgoyne  was  now  doing  from 
his  seat  in  Parliament,  was  an  event  long  to  be  re- 
membered not  alone  from  the  extravagance  of  its  dis- 
play, but  from  the  peculiar  prominence  it  afforded  the 
foremost  families  of  the  city,  particularly  that  of  the 
Shippens. 

Edward  Shippen  was  a  gentleman  of  rank,  of  char- 
acter, of  fortune,  a  member  of  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  respected  families  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia, 
whose  ancestor,  of  the  same  name,  had  been  Mayor 
of  the  city  nigh  an  hundred  years  before.  He  belonged 
to  the  Society  of  Friends,  or  Quakers,  and  while  he 
took  no  active  interest  on  either  side  during  the  years 
of  the  war,  still  he  was  generally  regarded  as  one  of 
the  sympathizers  of  the  Crown.  Because  of  the  social 
eminence  which  the  family  enjoyed  and  the  brilliance 
and  genial  hospitality  which  distinguished  their  af- 
fairs, the  Shippens  were  considered  the  undisputed 
leaders  of  the  social  set  of  Philadelphia.  The  three 
lovely  Misses  Shippen  were  the  belles  of  the  more 
aristocratic  class.  They  were  toasted  frequently  by 
the  gay  English  officers  during  the  days  of  the  British 
occupation,  for  their  father's  house  was  often  the 
rendezvous  of  the  titled  celebrities  of  the  day. 

"And  was  your  Captain  there,  too?"  continued  Mar- 
jorie,  referring,  of  course,  to  Captain  Monstresor,  the 
engineer  of  the  undertaking,  an  erstwhile  admirer  of 
Mistress  Peggy. 

"You  must  know,  my  dear,  that  he  arranged  the 
spectacle.  I  saw  little  of  him  until  the  dance.  In 
truth,  he  seemed  more  popular  than  General  Howe 
himself." 

Marjorie  sat  up. 


THE  LOYALIST  3 

"Tell  mel  Did  the  tournament  begin  the  pro- 
gram?" 

"No!"  replied  Peggy.  "The  military  procession  of 
boats  and  barges  with  Lords  Howe  and  Rawdon,  Gen- 
eral Howe  and  General  Clinton,  opened  the  event  in 
the  late  morning,  sailing  up  the  river  to  the  Wharton 
House,  the  scene  of  the  tournament." 

Marjorie  nodded. 

"The  noise  of  the  guns  was  deafening.  When  the 
flotilla  arrived  at  Walnut  Grove,  which  was  lined  with 
troops  and  bedecked  brilliantly  with  flags  and  bunting, 
the  pageant  opened." 

"Where  were  you  in  the  meantime?"  asked  Mar- 
jorie, careful  to  lose  no  detail. 

"We  were  seated  in  the  pavilions, — seven  ladies  in 
each, — clothed  in  Turkish  garments,  each  wearing  in 
her  turban  the  favor  to  be  bestowed  on  her  victorious 
knight." 

"And  who  was  your  knight?" 

"The  Honorable  Captain  Cathcart,"  quickly  replied 
Peggy,  her  eyes  beaming  with  a  smile  of  evident  satis- 
faction and  proud  joy. 

"Lord  Cathcart,  whom  I  met  here?" 

"The  same,"  answered  Peggy.  "He  was  the  leader 
of  the  'Knights  of  the  Blended  Rose.'  " 

"What  an  odd  name!"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  know  it.  They  were  named  after  their  device. 
They  were  dressed  in  white  and  red  silk,  mounted  on 
gray  horses  and  attended  by  esquires.  They  were  pre- 
ceded by  a  herald  who  bore  their  device,  two  roses 
intertwined  above  the  motto,  'We  droop  when  sep- 
arated.' My  knight  rode  at  the  head,  attended  by  two 
British  Officers,  and  his  two  esquires,  the  one  bearing 
his  lance,  the  other  his  shield  emblazoned  with  his 


4  THE  LOYALIST 

device — Cupid  astride  a  lion — over  the  motto,  'Sur- 
rounded by  love.' ' 

"You  little  Tory,"  interrupted  Marjorie.  "I  shall 
tell  General  Washington  that  you  are  disloyal  and 
have  lent  your  sympathy  to  a  British  Officer." 

"I  care  little.  The  Yankees  are  without  refine- 
ment  " 

"Don't  you  dare  say  that,"  snapped  Marjorie,  her 
whole  being  animated  with  sudden  anger.  "It  is  un- 
true and  you  know  it.  They  are  patriots  and " 

"Forgive  me,  dear,"  murmured  Peggy,  laying  her 
hand  on  the  arm  of  her  irate  friend.  "I  said  that  only 
in  jest.  I  shan't  continue  if  you  are  vexed." 

There  was  silence. 

"Please !  I  am  not  angry,"  Marjorie  pleaded.  "Do 
continue." 

"I  forget  my  story  now.  What  did  I  tell?  There 
was  so  much  that  I  am  confused." 

"The  Knights  of  the  Rose!"  suggested  Marjorie. 

"Oh,  yes !  Well,  this  body  of  knights  made  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  square  and  then  saluted  their  ladies.  On  a 
sudden,  a  herald  advanced  with  a  flourish  of  trumpets 
and  announced  that  the  ladies  of  the  Blended  Rose 
excelled  in  wit,  beauty,  grace,  charm  and  accomplish- 
ments those  of  the  whole  world  and  challenged  a  denial 
by  deeds  of  arms.  Whereupon  a  counter  sound  of 
trumpets  was  heard  from  afar  and  another  herald 
galloped  before  a  body  of  knights  in  black  and  orange 
silk  with  the  device — a  wreath  of  flowers  surrounding 
a  burning  heart — over  the  motto,  'Love  and  Glory.' 
These  were  the  Knights  of  the  Burning  Mountain,  who 
came  to  dispute  the  claim  of  the  Knights  of  the 
Blended  Rose." 


THE  LOYALIST  5 

"It  must  have  been  gorgeous !"  exclaimed  Marjorie, 
clasping  her  hands  before  her. 

"Indeed  it  was.  Well,  after  several  preliminaries, 
the  encounter  took  place,  the  knights  receiving  their 
lances  together  with  their  shields  from  their  esquires, 
whereupon  they  saluted  and  encountered  at  full  speed, 
shivering  their  spears  against  the  shield  of  their  adver- 
saries. They  next  encountered  and  discharged  their 
pistols  and  then  fought  with  swords.  Again  the  two 
chiefs  of  the  warring  factions,  Captain  Cathcart  of 
the  Blended  Rose  and  Captain  Watson  of  the  Burning 
Mountain,  met  in  mid  field  to  try  their  arms  as  cham- 
pions of  their  respective  parties.  They  parried  and 
thrust  with  true  knightly  valor  until  Major  Grayson, 
as  marshal  of  the  field,  intervened  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment, declaring  the  ladies  of  both  parties  to  be  fully 
satisfied  with  the  proofs  of  love  and  the  feats  of  valor 
displayed  by  their  knights.  He  then  commanded  the 
combatants  to  desist.  Thus  ended  the  tournament." 

"How  wonderful!"  sighed  Marjorie.  "I  would  I 
had  been  present.  And  your  knight  was  the  hero?" 

"Of  course,"  replied  Peggy  with  a  smile.  "I  am 
sure  that  he  would  have  worsted  Captain  Watson,  had 
not  the  Major  stepped  in.  But  the  banquet  was 
splendid." 

"And  Captain  Cathcart!"  reminded  Marjorie,  with 
a  slight  manifestation  of  instinctive  envy. 

"Why!  He  attended  me,  of  course,"  was  the  proud 
response.  "Each  knight  escorted  his  lady  through  the 
triumphal  arches  erected  in  honor  of  the  Generals  who 
were  present,  along  the  long  avenue  lined  on  both  sides 
with  the  troops  and  the  colors  of  the  army.  At  the 
third  arch,  which  was  dedicated  to  General  Howe  and 
which  bore  on  its  top  a  huge  flying  figure  of  Fame,  we 


6  THE  LOYALIST 

entered  the  great  Hall.  There  refreshments  were 
served  and  the  dancing  began.  It  continued  until  mid- 
night. The  windows  were  then  thrown  open  and  we 
witnessed  the  wonderful  display  of  fireworks.  And 
then  the  supper! 

"Gorgeous,  of  course!"  exclaimed  Marjorie. 

"Gorgeous,  indeed!"  Peggy  repeated — "a  great 
room,  with  fifty  or  more  pier  glasses,  draped  with 
green  silk  and  hundreds  of  varieties  of  flowers  of  as 
many  hues  and  shades.  An  hundred  branches  of  lights, 
thousands  of  tapers,  four  hundred  and  thirty  covers, 
and  there  must  have  been  more  than  twelve  hundred 
dishes.  The  attendants  were  twenty-four  black  slaves 
garbed  oriental  fashion  with  silver  collars  and  brace- 
lets. And  then  we  danced  and  danced  until  dawn, 
when  we  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  distant 
cannon." 

"And  then  your  knights  were  called  to  real  war," 
remarked  Marjorie. 

"For  the  moment  all  thought  this  to  be  part  of  the 
program,  the  signal  for  another  great  spectacle.  Sud- 
denly everything  broke  into  confusion.  The  officers 
rushed  to  their  commands.  The  rest  of  us  betook 
ourselves  as  best  we  could.  We  came  home  and  went 
to  bed,  tired  in  every  bone.  Mother  is  sorry  that 
I  attended,  for  she  thought  it  too  gay.  But  I  would 
not  have  lost  it  for  the  world." 

And  perhaps  her  mother  was  right.  For  Peggy  was 
but  eighteen,  the  youngest  of  the  Shippen  family.  The 
other  girls  were  somewhat  older,  yet  the  three  were 
considered  the  most  beautiful  debutantes  of  the  city, 
the  youngest,  if  in  anything,  the  more  renowned  for 
grace  and  manner.  Her  face  was  of  that  plumpness 
to  give  it  charm,  delicate  in  contour,  rich  with  the 


THE  LOYALIST  7 

freshness  of  the  bloom  of  youth.  Her  carriage  be- 
trayed breeding  and  dignity.  And  all  was  sweetened 
by  a  magnetism  and  vivacity  that  charmed  all  who 
came  within  her  influence.  Still  her  attitude  was  the 
more  prepossessing  than  permanent. 

Like  her  father,  she  was  a  Quaker  in  many  of  her 
observances.  To  that  creed  she  adhered  with  a  rigor- 
ous determination.  She  had  so  often  manifested  her 
political  sympathies,  which  were  intensified  to  an  irra- 
tional degree  as  appeared  from  passionate  disclosures, 
that  her  father  was  led  to  observe  that  she  was  more  a 
Tory  at  heart  than  General  Howe  himself. 

Her  companion,  Marjorie  Allison,  was  about  her 
own  age,  but  as  intensely  American  as  she  was  English. 
Her  parents  had  always  lived  in  Philadelphia,  as  their 
parents  had  before  them,  coming  originally  from  the 
Mother  country  to  which  they  were  now  opposed  in 
martial  strife.  The  thrill  of  patriotism  for  the  cause 
of  the  infant  republic,  which  throbbed  violently  within 
her  breast,  had  been  inspired  to  enthusiasm  more  by 
the  intense  antipathy  for  the  Church  of  England  than 
for  the  government  itself.  This  antipathy  was  kept 
alive  and  invigorated  by  the  doleful  memory  of  the 
privations  and  adversities  endured  by  her  ancestors 
from  the  agents  of  this  same  government  because  of 
their  Catholic  worship  and  their  heroic  efforts  to  fol- 
low their  religious  convictions. 

The  sympathies  of  the  Allisons  were  undivided. 
They  were  notorious  Whigs,  ardent  champions  of  the 
rights  which  the  new  government  so  strongly  asserted, 
and  which  they  had  pledged  themselves  stoutly  to  de- 
fend; ardent  champions  of  the  eternal  principles  on 
which  the  new  republic  was  built.  The  psychology  of 
the  Allisons'  allegiance  did  not  differ  from  that  of 


8  THE  LOYALIST 

innumerable  other  families.  Usually,  strange  to  re- 
late, society,  while  constantly  moving  forward  with 
eager  speed,  is  just  as  constantly  looking  backward 
with  tender  regrets.  But  no  regrets  were  here.  Re- 
ligious persecution  leaves  no  tender  memories  in  its 
trail.  Dissatisfaction  with  the  past  is  seldom  rendered 
more  memorable  than  by  the  fanatic  attempt  to  sepa- 
rate the  soul  from  its  God. 

Marjorie  and  Peggy  had  been  friends  from  girl- 
hood. They  understood  each  other  very  well.  Each 
knew  and  appreciated  the  other's  peculiarities,  her 
virtues  and  her  foibles,  her  political  propensities  and 
religious  convictions.  They  never  discussed  their  re- 
ligious differences.  They  avoided  such  a  clash  out  of 
respect  for  each  other's  convictions.  Not  so,  however, 
in  matters  relating  to  the  form  of  government.  Mar- 
jorie was  a  Whig,  an  ardent  champion  of  the  rights 
of  the  Colonists,  while  her  more  aristocratic  friend 
was  Tory  in  her  sentiments,  moderate,  it  is  true,  but 
nevertheless  at  times  much  inclined  to  the  extreme. 
Notwithstanding  these  differences,  their  friendship  had 
been  constant  and  they  had  always  shared  their  joys 
and  sorrows. 

The  days  of  the  British  occupation  of  the  city  had 
been  glorious  ones  for  Peggy  and  her  sisters.  The 
love  of  display  and  finery  which  was  characteristic  of 
them  was  satiated  by  the  brilliance  and  the  gayety  of 
the  winter  season  during  which  the  titled  British  Offi- 
cers were  feted  and  entertained  extravagantly.  None 
outshone  the  Shippens  in  the  magnificence  of  their 
entertainments.  Their  house  was  ever  open  in  hos- 
pitality, and  more  than  once  it  had  been  whispered 
about  that  their  resources  had  reached  the  point  of 
exhaustion. 


THE  LOYALIST  9 

At  these  functions  Marjorie  found  herself  a  wel- 
come guest.  For  Peggy  took  care  that  her  little  friend 
was  never  overlooked,  even  if  on  one  occasion  a  pang 
of  regret  sent  her  to  bed  with  copious  tears  when  the 
favor  for  the  evening  had  been  bestowed  upon  her  fair 
guest.  Marjorie,  however,  maintained  a  mature  com- 
posure and  a  marked  concern,  as  was  her  wont, 
throughout  it  all,  and  Peggy  again  reassured  herself 
that  her  misgivings  were  without  foundation.  For 
Marjorie  disliked  the  titled  gentry.  They  were  with- 
out exception  hostile  to  the  faith  to  which  she  so  stead- 
fastly adhered.  She  bore  with  them  merely  for  the 
pleasure  which  she  derived  from  the  coterie  made  bril- 
liant by  their  participation. 

And  so  the  winter  passed,  giving  way  to  lovely. 
spring,  whose  gentle  zephyrs  dispelled  the  cold,  the 
ice  and  the  snow  that  had  sent  the  British  into  the  ball- 
rooms for  protection,  and  had  afflicted  and  distressed 
the  patriots  at  Valley  Forge.  With  the  advent  of 
favorable  weather,  operations  began  anew;  the  hopes 
and  the  courage  of  the  colonists  were  now  exalted  to 
the  highest  pitch.  The  disasters  of  Long  Island  and 
Fort  Washington  had  been  offset  by  the  victory  at 
Saratoga.  While  the  British  had  taken  and  held  the 
important  cities  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  as  well 
as  the  town  of  Newport,  still  they  had  lost  an  army 
and  had  gained  nothing  but  the  ground  on  which  they 
were  encamped. 

Now,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  period  of  the 
war,  the  joyful  news  was  heralded  far  and  wide  that 
the  government  of  France  had  formally  acknowledged 
the  independence  of  the  United  States  and  that  help 
was  on  the  way  to  assist  the  Colonists  in  their  struggle. 
At  the  same  time  the  conciliatory  measures  of  Lord 


io  THE  LOYALIST 

North  in  Parliament  gave  indication  to  the  patriots 
that  the  British  Government  was  weakening.  The  joy 
of  the  Whigs  knew  no  bounds,  and  Marjorie  was  be- 
side herself  as  she  related  the  glad  tidings  over  and 
over  again.  The  fourth  epoch  of  the  war  augured 
well  for  the  success  of  the  cause. 


II 

In  all  the  Colonies  there  was  at  this  stage  of  the  war 
no  city  more  important  than  Philadelphia.  Whatever 
there  was  among  the  Colonists  of  wealth,  of  comfort, 
of  social  refinement,  of  culture  and  of  courtly  manners 
was  here  centered.  Even  the  houses  were  more  im- 
posing than  elsewhere  throughout  the  country.  They 
were  usually  well  constructed  of  stone  or  brick  with 
either  thatched  or  slated  roofs.  They  were  supplied 
with  barns  bursting  with  the  opalence  of  the  fields. 
The  countryside  round  about  was  teeming  with  fatness. 
Indeed,  in  all  the  colonies  no  other  place  was  so  replete 
with  affluence  and  comfort. 

Nor  was  it  without  its  gentry,  cultured  and  dignified. 
Its  inhabitants  were,  for  the  most  part,  made  up  of 
members  of  old  Quaker  families  and  others  faithful 
to  the  Church  of  England  and  devoted  to  the  political 
principles  of  the  Mother  country, — the  proud  posses- 
sors of  wealth  and  the  exemplars  of  the  most  dignified 
deportment.  Already  were  its  fair  sex  renowned 
abroad  as  well  as  at  home  for  their  "beauty,  grace  and 
intelligence."  They  moved  with  all  the  gayety  and 
charm  of  court  ladies.  The  wealth  and  luxury  of  a 
capital  city  were  there;  for  even  in  the  infancy  of  the 
republic,  Philadelphia  had  attained  a  distinction,  unique 


THE  LOYALIST  n 

and  preeminent.  What  was  more  natural,  then,  than 
that  their  allegiance  should  be  divided;  the  so-called 
fashionable  set  adhering  to  the  crown;  the  common 
townsfolk,  the  majority  of  whom  were  refugees  from 
an  obnoxious  autocracy,  zealously  espousing  the  col- 
onists' cause,  and  the  middle  class,  who  were  comprised 
of  those  families  holding  a  more  or  less  neutral  posi- 
tion in  the  war,  and  who  were  willing  to  preserve  their 
estates  and  possessions,  remaining  undecided,  and  in 
their  manner  maintaining  good  offices  with  both  sides 
throughout  the  strife. 

The  British  Army  took  possession  of  the  city,  after 
its  victorious  encounter  on  the  Brandywine,  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  September,  1777.  Sir  William  Howe 
selected  for  his  headquarters  the  finest  house  in  the 
city,  the  mansion  which  was  once  the  home  of  Gov- 
ernor Richard  Penn,  grandson  of  William  Penn.  Here 
General  Howe  and  his  staff  of  officers  passed  a  gay 
winter.  They  were  much  more  interested  in  the  amuse- 
ments, the  gayeties,  the  dissipations  carried  on  in  this 
old  Quaker  City  than  in  any  efforts  to  capture  the  army 
of  General  Washington. 

The  infatuate  populace,  indifferent  to  the  progress 
of  the  Revolution,  unaffected  for  the  most  part  by  the 
righteousness  of  the  cause  of  the  Colonists,  became 
enamored  of  the  brilliance  and  the  fashion  and  the 
display  of  the  English  nobility.  They  cordially  wel- 
comed General  Howe  and  his  young  officers,  electing 
them  the  leaders  and  the  favorites  in  all  the  social 
gayeties  and  amusements  of  the  season.  Such  was  the 
luxury  and  dissipation  of  the  British  in  the  city,  at 
dinner  parties,  cock-fights,  amateur  theatrical  perform- 
ances, that  Dr.  Franklin  was  led  to  remark  in  Paris 


12  THE  LOYALIST 

that  General  Howe  had  not  taken  Philadelphia  as 
much  as  Philadelphia  had  taken  General  Howe. 

The  general  plan  of  campaign  for  the  year  1777 
did  not  include  the  capture  of  Philadelphia.  Howe 
had  been  ordered  to  march  from  New  York,  which  he 
had  taken  the  preceding  August,  to  the  vicinity  of  Al- 
bany. There  he  was  to  join  forces  with  the  army  from 
Canada  under  General  Burgoyne,  which  was  to  pene- 
trate northern  New  York.  Why  he  elected  to  march 
against  Philadelphia  and  be  obliged  to  retrace  his 
steps  in  order  to  reach  Burgoyne  was  unknown  at  the 
time.  The  total  collapse  of  Burgoyne's  expedition  at 
Saratoga  and  the  menace  of  the  American  Army  under 
General  Washington  obliged  him  to  alter  his  plan  and 
to  remain  in  the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia,  which  city  he 
made  his  headquarters  for  the  winter. 

In  the  meantime  the  army  of  General  Washington, 
which  had  been  continually  harassing  the  English 
forces,  went  into  winter  quarters  in  close  proximity, 
at  Valley  Forge,  a  bare  twenty  miles  distant,  northwest 
of  the  city.  Here  the  little  army  of  the  Colonists 
menaced  the  position  of  the  British  while  enduring 
with  heroic  fortitude  the  severities  of  the  winter  sea- 
son. Shoeless  and  shivering,  the  soldiers  prepared 
these  winter  quarters  of  cold  huts,  rudely  constructed; 
themselves  overcoated  in  torn  blankets,  with  stuffed 
straw  in  their  boots  for  want  of  stockings.  Their  food 
was  as  scarce  as  their  clothing  and  at  one  time  more 
than  two  thousand  men  were  reported  unfit  for  duty 
because  barefoot  and  otherwise  naked.  Many  a  night 
the  men  were  compelled  to  remain  seated  by  the  fire 
for  want  of  blankets.  Day  by  day  the  supply  of  fuel 
diminished,  and  the  neighborhood  became  more  desti- 
tute of  trees  and  timber. 


THE  LOYALIST  13 

The  morale  of  the  troops  seemed  to  feed  on  mis- 
fortune; but  their  hopes  and  courage  were  suddenly 
intensified  when  the  news  of  the  Alliance  with  France 
reverberated  throughout  the  camp  to  the  booming  of 
cannon  and  the  shouts  of  the  whole  army.  There  was 
no  respite,  however.  While  the  enemy  was  living  in 
luxury  and  comfort  in  the  gay  city,  the  Continentals 
under  the  patience  of  Washington,  and  the  military 
genius  of  Von  Steuben,  were  being  rounded  into  a 
toughened  and  well  drilled  fighting  machine,  strong  in 
organization  and  bold  in  spirit,  a  worthy  match  for  the 
rapid  and  accurate  movements  for  which  the  better 
equipped  British  army  was  becoming  famous. 

That  Sir  William  Howe  found  it  easier  to  loiter  in 
Philadelphia  than  to  play  a  strategic  game  against 
Washington  in  the  depths  of  an  American  winter,  was 
due  no  less  to  the  want  of  decision  which  characterized 
all  of  his  actions  than  to  the  stupid  mismanagement 
with  which  the  campaign  of  1777  was  directed.  The 
British  had  gained  the  two  most  important  American 
cities,  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  but  the  entire 
American  army  was  still  in  the  field.  The  acquisition 
of  territory  was  of  no  military  importance  while  the 
forces  of  the  enemy  remained  intact  and  well  organ- 
ized. Moreover,  Burgoyne  was  left  to  his  fate  and  at 
Saratoga  an  army  was  lost. 

Nor  was  any  advantage  to  be  derived  from  the  pos- 
session of  the  American  capital.  Washington's  posi- 
tion at  Valley  Forge  had  held  the  British  in  check  all 
winter.  And  whatever  of  work  the  Congress  was  re- 
quired to  do  could  as  well  be  done  at  York  as  at  Phila- 
delphia. As  a  basis  for  military  operation  the  city 
was  without  value,  for  it  was  difficult  to  defend  and 
hard  to  supply  with  foodstuffs.  But  it  was  rich,  ex- 


i4  THE  LOYALIST 

travagant,  fashionable,  a  "place  of  crucifying  ex- 
penses," and  its  fine  houses,  good  pavements,  and  reg- 
ular arrangement  of  streets,  impressed  Howe  as  the 
most  fitting  place  for  the  British  Army  to  establish 
winter  quarters.  And  so  they  sat  down  to  wait  for 
spring. 

Ill 

"We  shall  never  forget  the  splendor  of  it  all;  it  was 
wonderful!"  exclaimed  Peggy  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"A  farewell  party!"  said  Marjorie.  "Undoubtedly 
the  gallant  Britishers  outdid  themselves.  Howe  leaves 
soon,  does  he  not?" 

"Yes.     Next  week." 

"Which  means  that  the  period  of  entertaining  is 
about  to  come  to  an  end." 

"I  suppose.  But  wasn't  the  winter  glorious?  I 
shall  never  forget  it." 

A  smile  covered  her  face,  dotting  her  cheeks  with 
two  tiny  dimples.  She  held  her  hands  together  over 
her  knees  while  she  sat  quite  motionless,  her  eyes  look- 
ing out  into  the  darkness  of  the  room. 

Presently  she  bethought  herself. 

"Let  us  light  the  tapers!"  she  announced,  jumping 
up  from  the  sofa. 

"It  is  late,"  Marjorie  remarked,  as  she,  too,  pre- 
pared to  arise.  "I  must  leave  for  home." 

"Stay!  It  is  still  early.  Soon  we  shall  be  obliged 
to  settle  into  quietude.  Dark  days  are  before  us." 

"Why!"  Marjorie  exclaimed.  "I  should  think 
that  the  future  augurs  well.  I  do  wish  the  soldiers 
would  evacuate  the  city." 


THE  LOYALIST  15 

"When  General  Howe  leaves,  all  may  as  well  leave 
with  him." 

"When  does  he  leave,  did  you  say?"  impatiently 
asked  her  true  American  friend. 

"Next  week,  I  understand.  The  great  Mischienza, 
you  know,  was  arranged  in  his  honor  as  a  farewell 
celebration." 

"General  Clinton,  I  presume,  will  succeed.  He 
seems  the  most  logical  choice." 

"Yes.  He  already  has  been  appointed  to  the 
supreme  command." 

"I  hope  he  decides  to  evacuate." 

"I  do  not  know.     Perhaps,"  was  the  sole  response. 

But  it  already  had  been  decided.  Upon  the  de- 
parture of  General  Howe,  instructions  were  forwarded 
from  the  ministry  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  the  new  Com- 
mander-in-chief, to  evacuate  the  city  at  once.  The 
imminent  arrival  of  the  French  fleet,  together  with  the 
increasing  menace  of  the  Continental  Army  at  Valley 
Forge,  constituted  a  grave  peril  to  the  isolated  army 
of  the  British.  Hence  it  was  determined  that  the 
capital  city  must  be  abandoned. 

Clinton  intended  to  transfer  his  army  to  New  York 
by  water  in  order  that  the  bulk  of  his  forces  might  be 
concentrated  for  the  spring  campaign.  On  account  of 
the  vast  number  of  Tories  who,  apprehensive  of  their 
personal  effects,  had  begged  to  be  transferred  with 
him,  he  was  obliged  to  forego  his  original  intention  of 
sailing  by  water  in  favor  of  a  march  overland.  Ac- 
cordingly on  the  morning  of  June  18,  1778,  the  rear- 
guard of  the  British  marched  out  of  the  city  and  on 
that  same  afternoon  the  American  advance  entered 
and  took  possession  with  Major  General  Benedict 
Arnold,  the  hero  of  Saratoga,  as  Military  Governor. 


16  THE  LOYALIST 

The  joy  of  the  Whig  populace  knew  no  bounds.  No 
longer  would  the  shadows  of  dark  despair  and  aban- 
doned hope  hang  like  a  pall  over  the  capital  city.  No 
longer  would  the  stately  residences  of  the  Tory  ele- 
ment be  thrown  open  for  the  diversion  and  the  junket 
of  the  titled  gentry.  No  more  would  the  soldiery  of 
an  hostile  army  loiter  about  the  street  corners  or  while 
away  the  hours  at  the  Taverns  or  at  the  Coffee  Houses. 
The  Congress  was  about  to  return.  The  city  would 
again  become  the  political  as  well  as  the  civic  center 
of  American  affairs.  The  people  would  be  ruled  by  a 
governor  of  their  own  accord  and  sympathy.  Phila- 
delphia was  to  enter  into  its  own. 


CHAPTER  II 


"It  won't  do,  I  tell  you.  And  the  sooner  he  realizes 
this  the  more  satisfactory  will  it  become  for  all  con- 
cerned." 

"Sh-h-h,"  answered  Mrs.  Allison  in  a  seemingly 
heedless  manner.  She  was  seated  by  the  side  window 
in  her  old  rocker,  intent  only  on  her  three  needles  and 
the  ball  of  black  yarn.  "Judge  not,  that  you  may  not 
be  judged!"  she  reminded  him. 

"He  is  too  imprudent.  Only  today  he  contemptu- 
ously dismissed  the  Colonel  and  the  secretary;  later  he 
requested  them  to  dine  with  him.  We  don't  like  it,  I 
tell  you." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  no  more  staunch 
defender  or  constant  advocate  of  the  cause  of  the 
Colonists  than  Matthew  Allison  himself;  and  when 
the  proclamation  of  the  new  Military  Governor  order- 
ing the  closing  of  the  shops  and  the  suspension  of  busi- 
ness in  general  until  the  question  of  ownership  was 
established,  had  been  issued,  he  was  among  the  first 
of  the  citizens  to  comply  with  it.  True,  his  sole  source 
of  income  had  been  temporarily  suspended.  But  what 
matter?  It  meant  order  and  prevented  the  wares  from 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  His  small  shop 
had  enabled  himself  together  with  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter to  eke  out  a  comfortable  existence.  Their  cozy 
home  while  unmistakably  plain  and  unadorned  with  the 

17 


1 8  THE  LOYALIST 

finer  appointments  indicative  of  opulence,  nevertheless 
was  not  without  charm  and  cheeriness.  It  was  delight- 
ful in  simplicity  and  neat  arrangement. 

Allison  had  welcomed  the  entry  of  General  Arnold 
into  the  city  as  a  hero  coming  into  his  own,  but  he  was 
not  slow  in  perceiving  that  the  temperament  of  the  man 
rendered  him  an  unhappy  choice  for  the  performance 
of  the  onerous  duties  which  the  successful  administra- 
tion of  the  office  required.  Readily  and  with  genuine 
satisfaction  did  he  yield  to  the  initial  mandate  of  the 
Governor;  but  when  the  scent  of  luxury  from  this  same 
Governor's  house,  the  finest  mansion  in  the  city  and  the 
identical  one  lately  occupied  by  the  British  commander, 
was  diffused  throughout  the  city  causing  murmurs  of 
criticism  and  dissension,  Matthew  Allison  forgot  for 
the  moment  his  oath  of  fealty  and  gave  expression  to 
pain  and  dissatisfaction. 

"Why  allow  yourself  to  be  disturbed  at  his  manner 
of  living?"  asked  his  wife,  picking  up  the  conversation 
at  the  point  where  he  had  left  it. 

"And  you  and  I  and  the  vast  majority  of  us  sacri- 
ficing our  all.  Why  they  tell  me  that  his  quarters 
abound  in  luxury  to  a  degree  never  excelled  by  Howe 
himself." 

"Well!"  was  the  simple  reply. 

"And  the  Massachusetts  Regiment  has  been  ap- 
pointed his  guard  of  honor;  and  that  two  armed  sol- 
diers have  been  stationed  at  the  doorposts." 

Allison  spoke  with  evident  passion,  the  ardor  .of 
which  pervaded  his  entire  being. 

"And  yet  I  dare  say  you  would  be  the  first  to  dis- 
approve of  the  other  extreme,"  admonished  Mrs.  Al- 
lison in  her  soft  and  gentle  way.  "Under  martial  law 
you  know,  there  must  be  no  relaxation  of  discipline, 


THE  LOYALIST  19 

notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  Americans  once 
more  control  the  city." 

"Laxity  or  no  laxity,  it  is  extravagant  for  him  to  be 
housed  in  the  finest  mansion  in  the  city  with  a  retinue 
of  servants  and  attendants  only  excelled  by  Sir  Wil- 
liam Howe;  to  be  surrounded  by  a  military  guard  of 
selective  choice;  to  maintain  a  coach  and  four  with 
footmen  and  servants,  all  equipped  with  livery  of  the 
most  exclusive  design;  to  live  in  the  greatest  splendor, 
notwithstanding  the  avowed  republican  simplicity  of 
the  country  as  well  as  the  distressed  condition  of  our 
affairs  and  finances.  Who  is  paying  for  this  extrava- 
gance? We,  of  course.  We  are  being  taxed  and 
supertaxed  for  this  profligate  waste  while  our  shops 
are  closed  to  all  future  trade.  These  are  not  alone 
my  opinions;  they  are  the  expressions  of  the  men  about 
town.  This  was  the  sole  topic  of  conversation  today 
at  the  Coffee  House." 

For  where  else  would  the  news  of  the  day  be  found 
if  not  on  the  street  corners  or  at  the  Coffee  House? 
This  latter  institution,  like  its  London  prototype,  was 
the  chief  organ  through  which  the  public  opinion  of 
the  metropolis  continually  asserted  itself.  Its  con- 
venience lay  in  its  adaptability  for  the  making  of  ap- 
pointments at  any  hour  of  the  day,  or  for  the  passing 
of  an  evening  socially  for  a  very  small  charge.  It 
had  its  characters  who  became  as  famous  as  the  insti- 
tution itself,  its  orators  to  whose  eloquence  the  crowd 
listened  with  admiration,  its  medical  men  who  might 
be  consulted  on  any  malady  merely  for  the  asking,  its 
poets  and  humorists  who  in  winter  occupied  the  chairs 
of  learning  nearest  the  stove  and  in  summer  held  the 
choice  places  on  the  balcony,  and  who  discoursed  fables 
and  politics  with  renewed  embellishment  upon  the  ad- 


20  THE  LOYALIST 

vent  of  every  newcomer.  The  atmosphere  always 
reeked  with  the  fumes  of  tobacco.  Nowhere  else  was 
smoking  more  constant  than  at  the  Coffee  House.  And 
why  any  one  would  leave  his  own  home  and  fireside  to 
sit  amid  such  eternal  fog,  was  a  mystery  to  every  good 
housewife.  But  every  man  of  the  upper  or  the  middle 
class  went  daily  to  the  Coffee  House  to  learn  and  dis- 
cuss the  news  of  the  day. 

"I  suppose  Jim  Cadwalader  waxed  warm  today  on 
the  subject  and  gave  you  inspiration,"  submitted  Mrs. 
Allison.  "Why  do  you  not  suspend  your  judgment  for 
a  while  until  you  learn  more  about  the  Governor, — at 
any  rate  give  him  the  benefit  of  a  doubt  until  you  have 
some  facts,"  mildly  replied  Mrs.  Allison  with  that 
gentle  manner  and  meekness  of  temper  which  was 
characteristic  of  her. 

"Facts!"  said  he,  "I  am  telling  you  that  these  are 
facts.  The  Colonel  saw  this,  I  tell  you,  for  he  dined 
with  him.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  this,"  he  announced 
pointing  towards  her,  "he  hates  the  Catholics  and  is 
strongly  opposed  to  any  alliance  with  a  Catholic  coun- 

try." 

"Never  mind,  my  dear.  We  cannot  suffer  for  that." 
"I  know,  but  it  may  concern  us  sooner  or  later.  Our 
fathers  endured  severe  tortures  at  the  hands  of  a 
bigoted  Government,  and  if  the  new  republic  gives 
promise  of  such  unhappy  tidings,  we  may  as  well  leave 
the  earth." 

"I  would  not  take  any  undue  alarm,"  quietly  an- 
swered Mrs.  Allison  as  her  deft  fingers  sped  on  with 
the  knitting.  "General  Washington  is  broad-minded 
enough  to  appreciate  our  loyalty  and  our  spirit  of  self- 
sacrifice.  And  besides  the  new  French  Alliance  will 
prevent  any  of  the  intolerance  which  made  itself  mani* 


THE  LOYALIST  21 

fest  in  the  person  of  King  George.  With  a  Catholic 
ally,  the  government  cannot  very  well  denounce  the 
Catholics  as  you  will  discover  from  the  repealing  of 
several  of  the  laws  which  rendered  life  more  or  less 
obnoxious  in  some  of  the  colonies.  And  I  think,  too, 
that  we  have  given  more  than  our  share  to  the  cause. 
With  so  much  to  our  credit,  no  public  official,  what- 
ever his  natural  inclination,  can  afford  to  visit  his  big- 
otry on  us.  I  would  not  worry  about  General  Arnold. 
He  will  not  molest  us,  I  am  sure." 

"I  don't  think  that  he  pleases  me  anyway." 
"And  why?"  she  paused  to  ask.    "Because  he  main- 
tains too  expensive  a  livery,  or  has  surrounded  him- 
self by  too  many  attendants?" 

"No.  I  dislike  the  man.  I  do  not  like  his  traits." 
"It  is  unkind  of  you  to  say  that.  Who  enjoys  a 
greater  reputation  for  skill  or  bravery  or  personal 
courage  than  he?  What  would  have  become  of  Gates, 
or  our  army,  or  the  French  Alliance  were  he  not  at 
Saratoga,  and  there  too  without  a  command,  you  must 
remember." 

"I  know  all  that,  but  he  is  too  blunt,  too  headstrong, 

too  proud,  too " 

Marjorie's  figure  at  the  door  interrupted  him. 


II 

Although  Mistress  Allison  was  not  twenty,  she  main- 
tained the  composure  of  a  married  woman,  sedate  and 
reserved  like  the  matrons  of  this  period.  Her  dress 
was  neat  and  well  chosen,  a  chintz  cotton  gown,  of  a 
very  pretty  blue  stamp,  blue  silk  quilt  and  a  spotted 


22  THE  LOYALIST 

figured  apron.  The  vivacity  of  her  manner  and  the 
winsomeness  of  her  behavior  were  prepossessing,  and 
she  was  beautiful  to  look  upon:  her  complexion  as 
dazzling  white  as  snow  in  sunshine;  except  her  cheeks, 
which  were  a  bright  red;  and  her  lips,  of  a  still  deeper 
crimson.  Her  small  oval  face  was  surmounted  by  a 
wealth  of  dark  brown  hair,  craped  up  with  two  rolls 
on  each  side  and  topped  with  a  small  cap  of  beautiful 
gauze  and  rich  lace, — a  style  most  becoming  to  a  girl 
of  her  age.  Health,  activity,  decision  were  written  full 
upon  her,  whether  in  the  small  foot  which  planted 
itself  on  the  ground,  firm  but  flexible,  or  in  the  bearing 
of  her  body,  agile  or  lofty. 

She  was  the  only  child  of  Mr.  Allison  and  a  much 
admired  member  of  the  city's  middle  class.  And  while 
it  is  true  that  a  certain  equality  in  class  and  social  re- 
finement was  an  attribute  of  the  American  people 
which  found  great  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  older  world 
inhabitants,  it  is  equally  true  that  this  equality  was 
more  seeming  than  real.  This  was  due  to  a  great 
extent  to  the  distinction  established  by  the  wealth  and 
the  liberties  enjoyed  by  the  various  classes  of  people. 
It  was  said,  and  not  without  a  semblance  of  truth,  that 
the  inhabitants  of  Philadelphia  were  rated  according 
to  their  fortunes.  The  first  class  was  known  as  the 
carriage  folk,  who  proclaimed,  almost  without  excep- 
tion, their  pretended  descent  from  the  ancient  English 
families  by  their  coats  of  arms  imprinted  upon  their 
carriage  doors.  The  second  class  was  composed  of  the 
merchants,  lawyers,  and  business  men  of  the  city;  and 
the  third  class,  were  those  who  exercised  the  mechan- 
ical arts.  These  felt  their  social  inferiority  and  never 
hoped  for  any  association  with  the  upper  classes.  The 


THE  LOYALIST  23 

Allisons  were  of  the  middle  rank,  and  were  looked 
upon  as  its  most  respected  members. 

Plain,  simple-living  folk,  they  made  no  pretense  to 
display.  Neither  did  they  affect  aristocracy.  Their 
manner  of  living  was  as  comfortable  as  their  modest 
means  would  allow.  It  was  a  common  habit  for  the 
people  of  this  class  to  indulge  in  luxury  far  beyond 
their  resources  and  no  small  amount  of  this  love  of 
ostentation  was  attributed  to  the  daughters  of  the 
families.  In  this  respect  Marjorie  offended  not  in  the 
least.  Whether  assisting  her  father  in  the  shop  during 
the  busy  hours,  or  presiding  at  the  Coffee  House,  or 
helping  her  mother  with  the  affairs  of  the  household, 
she  was  equally  at  home.  Neither  the  brilliance  of  the 
social  function,  nor  the  pleasures  of  the  dance  roused 
unusual  desires  in  her.  Indeed  she  seldom  participated 
in  such  entertainments,  unless  on  the  invitation  and  in 
company  with  the  Shippen  family  with  whom  she  was 
on  the  most  intimate  terms  of  friendship.  The  gay 
winter  season  of  the  British  occupation  of  the  city 
produced  no  change  in  her  manner  or  attire.  The 
dazzling  spectacle  of  the  Mischienza  found  her  se- 
cluded in  her  home,  more  from  her  own  desire  than 
from  her  pretended  deference  to  the  wishes  of  her 
mother. 

Her  happiness  was  in  her  homelife.  This  was  the 
center  of  her  affection  as  well  as  of  her  tenderest  solici- 
tude. Here  she  busied  herself  daily,  either  in  the  care 
of  the  house,  and  the  preparation  of  the  meals,  which 
were  by  no  means  sumptuous  owing  to  the  scarcity  of 
all  foodstuffs,  or  at  the  wheel  where  she  made  shirt- 
ings and  the  sheetings  for  the  army.  A  touch  of  her 
hand  here  and  there,  to  this  chair,  slightly  out  of  place, 
to  this  cup  or  that  plate  in  the  china-chest,  to  the 


24  THE  LOYALIST 

miniature  on  the  wall,  leaning  slightly  to  one  side,  or 
the  whisk  of  her  sweeping-brush  through  the  silver- 
sand  on  the  floor,  transformed  a  disorderly  aspect  into 
one  of  neatness  and  taste.  It  was  here  that  she  spent 
her  days,  enduring  their  unvarying  monotony,  with 
sweet  and  unbroken  contentment. 

As  she  hurriedly  entered  the  house,  she  arrested  the 
attention  of  her  father  and  put  a  period  to  the  conver- 
sation. 

"Oh,  Father,  have  you  heard?" 

"What  news  now,  child!" 

"Washington  has  engaged  the  British." 

"And  how  fared?" 

"They  were  compelled  to  withdraw." 

"Thank  God." 

"Where,  Marjorie,  did  you  come  by  'thisi  good 
news?"  inquired  the  mother. 

"At  the  State  House.  A  courier  arrived  from  Mon- 
mouth  with  the  tidings,"  answered  Marjorie,  still 
nervous  to  narrate  the  story,  and  forgetting  to  remove 
her  hat. 

"When  did  this  happen?"  asked  her  father,  im- 
patiently. 

"It  seems  that  General  Washington  started  in  pur- 
suit of  Clinton  as  soon  as  he  had  evacuated  the  city. 
He  had  decided  that  an  attack  must  be  made  as  soon 
as  possible.  When  the  British  reached  Allentown, 
they  found  the  American  army  gaining  the  front  and  so 
they  turned  towards  Monmouth.  Near  the  Court 
House  the  British  were  outflanked  and  the  Americans 
gained  the  superior  ground  and  so  the  battle  was  won. 
Then  General  Lee  ordered  a  retreat." 

"A  retreat?"  exploded  Mr.  Allison.     "What  for?"' 

"I  do  not  know,  but  that  was  the  report.     Lee  re- 


THE  LOYALIST  25 

treated  when  Washington  arrived  on  the  scene,"  con- 
tinued Marjorie. 

"And  then?" 

"He  rallied  the  troops  to  another  front  and  began 
the  attack  anew,  driving  the  British  back  a  considerable 
distance.  Nightfall  ended  the  battle,  and  when  day 
broke,  Clinton  had  withdrawn." 

"And  Lee  ordered  a  retreat!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Al- 
lison. "A  damned  poltroon!" 

"All  say  the  same.  The  crowd  was  furious  upon 
hearing  the  message,  although  some  thought  it  too 
incredible.  The  joy  of  victory,  however,  made  them 
forget  the  disgraceful  part." 

"My  faith  in  him  has  never  faltered,"  quietly  ob- 
served Mrs.  Allison,  as  she  prepared  to  resume  the 
knitting  from  which  she  had  ceased  on  the  sudden  entry 
of  Marjorie. 

"And  his  pretended  friends  must  now  croak  forth 
his  praises,"  rejoined  her  husband. 

"There  were  shouts  and  cheers,"  continued  Mar- 
jorie, "as  the  news  was  being  announced.  Each  new- 
comer would  add  another  detail  to  the  story  with 
beaming  delight.  All  said  that  the  retreat  from  the 
city  and  the  defeat  of  the  British  augured  a  speedy 
termination  of  the  war.  The  country  is  wholly  united 
again  under  General  Washington." 

"And  what  will  become  of  Lee?"  asked  the  father. 

"The  traitor !"  snapped  Marjorie.  "They  ought  to 
court-martial  him.  The  crowd  greeted  his  name  with 
hisses  when  the  details  began  to  impress  themselves 
upon  them.  I  dare  say,  he  has  few  friends  in  the  city 
tonight,  expect  perhaps  among  the  Tories.  He  is  a 
disgrace  to  the  uniform  he  wears." 

"Undoubtedly,  the  losses  were  heavy." 


26  THE  LOYALIST 

"No  one  seemed  to  know.  The  minor  details  of  the 
engagement  are  still  unknown.  They  will  come  later. 
The  consoling  feature  is  that  the  enemy  were  com- 
pelled to  withdraw,  which  would  indicate  that  they 
were  worsted.  The  remnants,  I  suppose,  will  concen- 
trate at  New  York.  There  will  occur  the  next  great 
battle." 

"God  grant  that  it  will  soon  be  over,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Allison. 

"And  now,  daughter,  have  you  more  news?"  asked 
her  father. 

"Oh,  yes !  General  Arnold  is  going  to  give  a  ball  at 
the  City  Tavern  on  the  Fourth  of  July  to  the  officers 
of  the  French  Army.  It  will  be  under  the  auspices  of 
the  American  officers  of  Washington's  command  and 
in  honor  of  the  loyal  ladies  who  had  withheld  from  the 
Mischienza.  And  I  have  been  invited  to  attend." 

"I  should  think  that  we  have  had  enough  of  social 
life  here  during  the  past  winter,"  quietly  announced 
the  father. 

"Well,"  replied  Marjorie,  "this  affair  is  to  exclude 
all  who  participated  in  the  English  Army  festivities. 
Only  Americans  will  be  present." 

"How  did  you  come  by  this  report?"  asked  her 
mother. 

"Peggy  Shippen.  I  stopped  there  for  a  short  time. 
They  told  me  of  the  proposed  invitation  and  that  I 
was  included." 

"How  came  they  by  the  news?" 

"I  suppose  General  Arnold  told  them." 

"Is  he  acquainted  with  them?     I  wonder " 

"Yes.  They  were  presented  to  him,  and  he  has 
already  honored  them  with  his  visit." 

"I  don't  like  this,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "and  you  can 


THE  LOYALIST  27 

be  assured  that  there  will  be  little  restriction  as  to  the 
company  who  will  comprise  this  assemblage.  The 
Governor  will  take  sides  with  the  wealthy,  be  their 
sympathies  what  they  may.  Well,  if  he  establish  the 
precedent,  I  dare  say,  none  will  be  so  determined  as  to 
oppose  him.  Do  you  wish  to  go,  daughter?" 

"I  think  I  might  enjoy  it.  The  French  soldiers  are 
so  gallant,  I  might  find  much  pleasure  there." 

"Very  well,  you  shall  attend,"  said  her  father. 


ill 

And  so  it  was  decided  that  Marjorie  would  be  pres- 
ent at  the  Governor's  Ball.  As  custom  did  not  require 
mothers  to  accompany  their  daughters  to  such  func- 
tions, but  allowed  them  to  go  unattended,  Mrs.  Allison 
preferred  to  remain  at  home.  To  what  splendor  and 
gayety  the  affair  would  lend  itself  was  a  matter  of 
much  speculation.  This  was  the  Governor's  first  event, 
and  no  one  was  aware  of  his  prowess  on  the  ballroom 
floor. 

Once  the  list  of  invitations  had  become  public,  it 
was  understood  quite  generally  that  no  distinction  was 
made  between  those  that  had,  and  those  that  had  not, 
attended  the  Mischienza.  Whether  the  number  would 
be  surprisingly  small,  or  whether  the  affair  would  fail 
of  success  without  the  Mischienza  ladies,  could  not 
be  foretold.  Indeed  such  speculations  were  idle,  since 
no  discrimination  had  been  made.  There  were  a  num- 
ber of  young  French  Officers  in  the  town  and  one  or 
two  of  General  Washington's  aides  had  remained  be- 
cause of  the  pressure  of  immediate  business  after  the 
British  evacuation.  These  of  course  would  attend. 


28  THE  LOYALIST 

All  the  other  available  young  men  belonged  to  the 
families  who  had  held  a  more  or  less  neutral  position 
in  the  war,  and  who  had  not  offered  their  services  to 
the  patriots  nor  yielded  allegiance  to  the  foe.  As  these 
neutrals  were  among  the  most  prominent  people  of  the 
city,  their  presence  would,  of  course,  be  altogether 
desirable. 

Marjorie  was  invited  through  the  efforts  of  Peggy 
Shippen,  who  had  proposed  her  name  to  His  Excel- 
lency on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  her  house.  She 
would  be  included  in  their  party  and  would  be  assigned 
a  partner  befitting  her  company.  Because  of  the  promi- 
nence of  the  Shippens,  it  was  thought  that  the  gallant 
young  French  Officers,  would  be  assigned  to  them. 
Marjorie  rejoiced  at  this  although  the  Shippen  girls 
evinced  no  such  sentiment.  Whether  it  was  because  the 
French  alliance  was  distasteful  to  them  or  because  their 
Tory  leanings  took  precedence,  they  preferred  other 
guests  for  partners.  But  as  the  matter  was  to  be  de- 
cided by  lot,  their  likings  were  not  consulted. 

Ere  long  the  city  was  agog  with  speculation  respect- 
ing the  coming  ball.  The  battle  of  Monmouth  was 
accorded  a  second  place.  The  disdain  of  the  middle 
class,  who  had  been  embittered  against  such  demon- 
strations by  the  profligacy  displayed  during  the  days 
of  the  British  occupation,  soon  began  to  make  itself 
felt.  That  it  was  the  first  official  or  formal  function 
of  the  new  republic  mattered  little.  A  precedent  was 
about  to  be  established.  There  was  to  be  a  continu- 
ation of  the  shameful  extravagance  which  they  had 
been  compelled  to  witness  during  the  winter  and  which 
they  feared  they  would  be  forced  to  maintain  for  an- 
other protracted  period.  Living  was  high,  extremely 
high,  and  the  value  of  the  paper  currency  had  depre- 


THE  LOYALIST  29 

elated  to  almost  nothing.  Indeed  it  was  said  that  a 
certain  barber  in  the  town  had  papered  his  entire  shop 
with  the  bills  and  that  a  dog  had  been  led  up  and  down 
the  streets,  smeared  with  tar,  and  adorned  cap-a-pie 
with  paper  money.  To  feed  and  clothe  the  army  was 
expense  enough  without  being  compelled  to  pay  for 
the  splendors  of  a  military  ball.  Small  wonder  that 
the  coming  event  aroused  no  ordinary  speculation. 

Nevertheless  preparations  went  on  with  growing 
vigor  and  magnificence,  and  not  the  least  interested  was 
Marjorie.  The  event  was  now  awaited  with  painful 
anxiety.  Even  the  war  for  a  moment  was  relegated  to 
a  place  of  minor  import. 


CHAPTER  III 


An  imposing  spectacle  greeted  Marjorie's  eyes  as 
she  made  her  way  in  company  with  the  Shippen  girls 
into  the  ballroom  of  the  City  Tavern.  The  hall  was 
superb,  of  a  charming  style  of  architecture,  well  fur- 
nished and  lighted,  and  brilliantly  decorated  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  American  and  French  flags  arranged  in  fes- 
toons and  trianguloids  and  drapings  throughout  its 
entire  length  and  breadth,  its  atmosphere  vocal  with 
the  strains  of  martial  music.  Everywhere  were  women 
dressed  with  elegance  and  taste.  The  Tory  ladies, 
gowned  in  the  height  of  fashion,  were  to  Marjorie  a 
revelation  at  once  amazing  and  impressive. 

On  a  raised  dais  sat  the  Governor  in  his  great  chair. 
He  was  clothed  in  the  regulation  buff  and  blue  uniform 
of  a  Major  General  of  the  Continental  Army.  On  his 
shoulders  he  wore  the  epaulets  and  about  his  waist  the 
sword  knots  General  Washington  had  presented  to  him 
the  preceding  May.  He  bore  also  upon  his  person  the 
most  eloquent  of  martial  trophies,  for  his  leg,  wounded 
at  Quebec  and  Saratoga,  rested  heavily  on  a  small 
cushion  before  him. 

Marjorie  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time,  was  at- 
tracted at  once  by  his  manly  bearing  and  splendid 
physique.  His  frame  was  large,  his  shoulders  broad, 
his  body  inclined  to  be  fleshy.  His  very  presence,  how- 
ever, was  magnetic,  still  his  manner  was  plain  and  with- 

30 


THE  LOYALIST  31 

out  affectation.  He  looked  the  picture  of  dignity  and 
power  as  he  received  the  guests  in  their  turn  and 
greeted  each  with  a  pointed  and  pleasant  remark. 

"Isn't  he  a  handsome  figure?"  whispered  Peggy  to 
Marjorie  as  they  made  their  way  slowly  to  the  dais. 

Marjorie  acquiesced  in  the  judgment.  He  was  still 
young,  hardly  more  than  thirty-five,  his  weather-beaten 
face  darkened  to  bronze  from  exposure.  His  feat- 
ures were  large  and  clean  cut  with  the  power  of  de- 
cision written  full  upon  them.  A  firm  and  forcible 
chin,  with  heavy  lines  playing  about  his  mouth;  eyes, 
large  and  black,  that  seemed  to  take  toll  of  everything 
that  transpired  about  them,  suggested  a  man  of  ex- 
travagant energy,  of  violent  and  determined  tenacity 
in  the  face  of  opposition.  No  one  could  look  upon  his 
imposing  figure  without  calling  to  mind  his  martial 
achievements — the  exploits  of  Canada,  of  the  Mo- 
hawk, of  Bemis  Heights. 

"So  this  is  your  little  friend,"  said  he  to  Peggy, 
eyeing  Marjorie  as  she  made  her  presentation  courtesy. 
He  was  now  standing,  though  resting  heavily  on  his 
cane  with  his  left  hand. 

"Mistress  Allison,  this  privilege  is  a  happy  one.     I 
understand  that  you  are  a  violent  little  patriot." 
He  smiled  as  he  gently  took  her  hand. 

"I  am  very  pleased,  Your  Excellency.  This  is  an 
occasion  of  rare  delight  to  me." 

"And  are  you  so  intensely  loyal?  Your  friends 
love  you  for  your  devotion,  although  I  sometimes  think 
that  they  miss  General  Howe,"  and  he  smiled  in  the 
direction  of  Peggy  as  he  turned  to  her  with  this 
remark. 

"You  know,  General,"  Peggy  was  always  ready  with 
an  artful  reply,  "I  told  you  that  I  was  neither  the  one 


32  THE  LOYALIST 

nor  the  other;  and  that  I  wore  black  and  white  at  the 
Mischienza,  the  colors  now  worn  by  our  American 
soldiers  in  their  cockades  in  token  of  the  French  and 
American  Alliance." 

"So  you  did.    I  had  almost  forgotten." 

"And  that  there  were  some  American  gentlemen 
present,  as  well,  although  aged  non-combatants,"  she 
continued  with  a  subtle  smile. 

"For  which  reason,"  he  responded,  "you  would,  I 
suppose,  have  it  assume  a  less  exclusive  appearance." 

"Oh,  no!  I  do  not  mean  that.  It  was  after  all  a 
very  private  affair,  arranged  solely  in  honor  of  General 
Howe." 

"Were  some  of  these  young  ladies  at  the  Mis- 
chienza? And  who  were  they  that  rewarded  the  gal- 
lant knights?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  the  Chew  girls,  and  my  sisters,  and  Miss 
Franks.  There  was  Miss  White,  and  Miss  Craig," 
she  repeated  the  list  one  after  the  other  as  her  eyes 
searched  the  company  assembled  in  the  hall.  "And  that 
girl  in  the  corner,  Miss  Bond,  and  beyond  her,  her 
sister:  then  there  was  Miss  Smith.  Miss  Bond  I  am 
told  is  engaged  to  one  of  your  best  Generals,  Mr.  John 
Robinson." 

"We  are  accustome4_to  call  Mr.  Robinson,  General 
Robinson  in  the  army,"  he  ventured  with  a  smile. 

She  blushed  slightly.  "We  call  him  Mr.  Robinson 
in  society,  or  sometimes  Jack." 

"And  who  might  have  been  your  gallant  knight? 
May  I  ask?" 

"The  Honorable  Captain  Cathcart,"  was  her  proud 
reply. 

"And  who  has  the  good  fortune  to  be  your  knight 


THE  LOYALIST  33 

for  this  occasion?"  he  questioned,  seeking  in  their 
hands  the  billet  of  the  evening. 

"We  do  not  know,"  Marjorie  murmured.  "We  have 
not  as  yet  met  the  Master  of  Ceremonies." 

He  looked  about  him,  in  search  evidently  of  some 
one.  "Colonel  Wilkinson!"  he  called  to  a  distin- 
guished looking  officer  on  his  right,  "have  these  fair 
ladies  been  assigned  to  partners?" 

The  Colonel  advanced  and  presented  them  with 
their  billets,  which  were  numbered  and  which  bore 
the  name  of  the  partner  that  was  to  accompany  them 
during  the  entire  evening.  Peggy  opened  hers  and 
found  the  name  of  Colonel  Jean  Boudinot,  a  young 
French  Officer.  Marjorie  saw  written  upon  hers  a 
name  unknown  to  her,  "Captain  Stephen  Meagher, 
aide-de-camp." 

"Captain  Meagher!"  exclaimed  the  Governor.  "He 
is  one  of  General  Washington's  aides,  detailed  for  the 
present  in  the  city.  Do  you  know  him?" 

"No,"  replied  Marjorie  timidly,  "I  do  not,  I  am 
sorry  to  say.  I  have  never  had  the  privilege  of  meet- 
ing him." 

"There  he  is  now,"  said  he,  indicating  with  a  gesture 
of  the  eyes  a  tall  young  officer  who  stood  with  his  back 
toward  them. 

Marjorie  looked  in  the  direction  indicated.  A  be- 
comingly tall  and  erect  figure,  cla4  in  a  long  blue  coat 
met  her  gaze.  Further  scrutiny  disclosed  the  details 
of  a  square  cut  coat,  with  skirts  hooked  back  display- 
ing a  buff  lining,  and  with  lappets,  cuff-linings  and 
standing  capes  of  like  color.  His  bearing  was  over- 
mastering as  he  stood  at  perfect  ease,  his  hand  resting 
gently  on  a  small  sword  hanging  at  his  side;  his  right 
wrist  showed  a  delicate  lace  ruffle  as  he  gestured  to 


34  THE  LOYALIST 

and  fro  in  his  conversation.  As  he  slightly  turned  in 
her  direction,  she  saw  that  he  wore  his  hair  drawn 
back  from  the  face,  with  a  gentle  roll  on  each  side, 
well  powdered  and  tied  in  a  cue  behind.  His  features 
were  pleasant  to  look  upon,  not  large  but  finely  chiseled 
and  marked  with  expression.  Marjorie  thought  what 
a  handsome  figure  he  made  as  he  stood  in  earnest  con- 
versation, dominating  the  little  group  who  surrounded 
him  and  followed  his  every  move  with  interest  and 
attention. 

"Let  me  call  him,"  suggested  the  Governor  to  Mar- 
jorie who  at  that  moment  stood  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  Captain.  "I  am  sure  he  will  be  pleased  to  learn 
the  identity  of  his  fair  partner,"  he  added  facetiously. 

"Oh  I  do,"  agreed  Peggy.  "It  would  afford  pleasure 
to  all  of  us  to  meet  him." 

The  General  whispered  a  word  to  an  attendant 
who  immediately  set  off  in  the  direction  of  the  uncon- 
cerned Captain.  As  the  latter  received  the  message 
he  turned,  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  dais  and  gazed 
steadily  at  the  Governor  and  his  company.  His  eyes 
met  Marjorie's  and  she  was  sure  that  he  saw  her  alone. 
The  thought  thrilled  her  through  and  through.  He 
excused  himself  from  the  company  of  his  circle,  and 
as  he  directed  his  footsteps  towards  her,  she  noted  his 
neat  and  close  fitting  buff  waistcoat,  and  his  immacu- 
late linen  revealing  itself  at  the  throat  and  ruffled 
wrists.  Nor  did  she  fail  to  observe  that  he  wore  a 
buff  cockade  on  his  left  breast  and  gilt  epaulets  upon 
his  shoulders. 

"Captain  Meagher,"  announced  General  Arnold. 
"I  have  the  honor  of  presenting  you  to  your  partner 
for  the  evening,  Mistress  Allison." 


THE  LOYALIST  35 

Marjorie  courtesied  gracefully  to  his  courtly  ac- 
knowledgment. 

"And  the  Misses  Shippen,  the  belles  of  the  Mis- 
chienza!" 

Stephen  bowed  profoundly. 

"I  was  just  remarking,  Captain,  that  General  Wash- 
ington has  honored  you  with  a  special  mission,  and  that 
you  have  run  away  from  your  duties  tonight  to  mingle 
with  the  social  life  of  the  city." 

"Or  rather,  Your  Excellency,  to  acquaint  myself 
with  their  society,"  Stephen  replied  good-naturedly. 

"Then  you  do  not  relax,  even  for  an  evening,"  in- 
quired Peggy,  with  a  coquettish  turn  of  the  head. 

"It  is  the  duty  of  a  soldier  never  to  relax."  Ste- 
phen's reply  was  more  naive  than  usual. 

"And  yet  one's  hours  are  shortened  by  pleasure  and 
action,"  continued  Peggy. 

"As  a  recreation  it  is  far  sweeter  than  as  a  business. 
It  soon  exhausts  us,  however,  and  it  is  the  greatest 
incentive  to  evil." 

"But  you  dance?"  interrupted  the  General. 

"Oh,  yes!  Your  Excellency,"  replied  Stephen, 
"after  a  fashion." 

"Well,  your  partner  is  longing  for  the  music.  Come, 
let  ye  assemble." 

And  as  the  dance  was  announced,  the  first  one  being 
dedicated  to  "The  Success  of  the  Campaign,"  Stephen 
and  Marjorie  moved  off  and  took  their  places.  Peggy 
and  her  sisters  were  soon  attended  and  followed.  They 
were  soon  lost  in  the  swirl  of  excitement  among  the 
throng. 


36  THE  LOYALIST 

ii 

"And  you  live  alone  with  your  father  and  mother?" 

Marjorie  and  her  partner  were  sitting  in  a  distant 
corner  whither  they  had  wandered  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  dance.  Stephen  began  to  find  himself  taking  an 
unusual  interest  in  this  girl  and  was  inquiring  concern- 
edly about  her  home  life. 

"Yes,  Father's  time  is  much  consumed  with  his 
attention  to  the  shop.  Mother  and  I  find  plenty  to 
occupy  us  about  the  house.  Then  I  relieve  Father  at 
times,  and  so  divide  my  hours  between  them,"  quietly 
answered  Marjorie. 

"You  have  not  as  yet  told  me  your  name,"  Stephen 
reminded  her. 

"Marjorie,"  was  the  timid  reply. 

"Marjorie !"  Then,  taking  advantage  of  her  averted 
look,  he  stole  secret  glances  at  her  small  round  face, 
her  lips,  firmly  set  but  curving  upwards,  her  rose-pink 
cheeks.  Presently,  his  eye  rested  on  her  finger-ring, 
a  cameo  with  what  looked  like  an  ectypal  miniature  of 
the  "Ecce  Homo."  Was  this  girl  of  his  faith? 

"Marjorie  Allison,"  he  repeated  again.  "Do  you 
know  that  sounds  like  a  Catholic  name?" 

"It  is,"  Marjorie  replied  proudly.  "Our  family  have 
been  Catholics  for  generations." 

"Mine  have,  too,"  Stephen  gladly  volunteered  the 
information.  "Irish  Catholics  with  a  history  behind 
them." 

"Is  your  home  here?"  asked  Marjorie. 

"Here  in  this  country,  yes,"  admitted  her  escort. 
"But  I  live  in  New  York  and  it  was  there  I  volunteered 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  and  saw  my  first  service  in 
the  New  York  campaign." 


THE  LOYALIST  37 

"And  are  your  parents  there,  too?"  inquired  the 
girl. 

And  then  he  told  her  that  his  father  and  mother  and 
only  sister  lived  there  and  that  when  the  war  broke 
out  he  determined  to  enlist  in  company  with  a  number 
of  his  friends,  the  younger  men  of  the  neighborhood. 
How  he  took  part  in  the  campaign  about  New  York 
and  his  "contribution  to  our  defeat,"  as  he  styled  it. 
Of  the  severe  winter  at  Valley  Forge  and  his  appoint- 
ment by  Washington  to  his  staff.  She  listened  with 
keen  interest  but  remained  silent  until  the  end. 

"And  now  you  are  in  the  city  on  detailed  duty?" 

"Yes.  Work  of  a  private  nature  for  the  Com- 
mander-in-chief." 

"It  must  be  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  be  responsive 
to  duty,"  observed  Marjorie. 

"It  is  God's  medicine  to  detach  us  from  the  things 
of  this  world.  For,  after  all  has  been  said  and  done, 
it  is  love  alone  which  elevates  one's  service  above  the 
domain  of  abject  slavery.  In  such  a  manner  do  the 
commands  of  heaven  afford  the  richest  consolations 
to  the  soul." 

"And  still,  a  certain  routine  must  manifest  itself  at 
times." 

"Not  when  the  habit  is  turned  to  pleasure." 

"You  are  a  philosopher,  then?" 

"No.  Just  a  mere  observer  of  men  and  their  des- 
tinies." 

"Have  you  included  the  duration  of  the  war  in  your 
legitimate  conclusions?" 

"It  is  not  over  yet,  and  it  will  not  terminate,  I  think, 
without  an  improvement  in  the  present  condition  of 
affairs.  The  proposed  help  from  France  must  become 
a  reality  of  no  ordinary  proportion,  else  the  discordant 


38  THE  LOYALIST 

factions  will  achieve  dire  results.  Tell  me,"  he  said, 
suddenly  changing  the  topic  of  conversation,  "were  you 
in  attendance  at  the  Mischienza?" 

"No,  I  did  not  care  to  attend." 

"I  would  I  had  been  present." 

"You  would  have  been  expelled  in  your  present 
capacity." 

"Ah,  yes!    But  I  would  have  affected  a  disguise." 

"You  would  expect  to  obtain  important  informa- 
tion?" She  fingered  her  gown  of  pink  satin  as  she 
spoke,  oblivious  of  everything  save  the  interest  of  the 
conversation. 

"I  might  possibly  have  stumbled  across  some  items 
of  value." 

"None  were  there  save  the  British  Officers  and  their 
Tory  friends,  you  know." 

"A  still  greater  reason  for  my  desire  to  be  present. 
And  why  did  you  not  dance  attendance?"  This  ques- 
tion was  frank. 

"Do  you  really  want  to  know  my  sole  reason?"  She 
looked  at  him  somewhat  suspicious,  somewhat  reliant, 
awaiting  her  womanly  instinct  to  reveal  to  her  the  rec- 
titude of  her  judgment. 

"I  should  not  have  asked,  otherwise,"  Stephen 
gravely  replied. 

"Well,  it  was  for  the  simple  reason  that  my  soul 
would  burn  within  me  if  I  permitted  myself  to  indulge 
in  such  extravagance  and  gayety  the  while  our  own 
poor  boys  were  bleeding  to  death  at  Valley  Forge." 

Stephen  grasped  her  hand  and  pressed  it  warmly. 
"You  are  a  true  patriot,"  was  all  he  could  say. 

Whether  it  was  his  emotion  for  the  cause  of  his 
country  or  the  supreme  satisfaction  afforded  him  by 
the  knowledge  that  this  girl  was  loyal  to  the  cause, 


THE  LOYALIST  39 

Stephen  did  not  know,  nor  did  he  try  to  discover.  He 
knew  that  he  was  thrilled  with  genuine  gratification 
and  that  he  was  joyously  happy  over  the  thought  which 
now  relieved  his  mind.  Somehow  or  other  he  ear- 
nestly desired  to  find  this  girl  an  ardent  patriot,  yet  he 
had  dared  not  ask  her  too  bluntly.  From  the  moment 
she  had  entered  the  hall  in  company  with  the  other 
girls,  he  had  singled  her  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  com- 
pany. And,  when  the  summons  came  to  him  from  the 
Governor,  he  had  seen  her  standing  at  the  side  of  the 
dais,  and  her  alone.  Little  did  he  suspect,  however,  that 
she  bore  his  billet,  nor  did  he  presume  to  wish  for  the 
pleasure  of  her  exclusive  company  for  the  evening. 

She  danced  with  grace  and  was  wholly  without  affec- 
tation. How  sweet  she  looked;  pink  gown,  pink 
flowers,  pink  ribbon,  pink  cheeks!  How  interesting 
her  conversation,  yet  so  reserved  and  dignified!  But 
she  lived  in  the  city  and  the  city  he  knew  teemed  with 
Loyalists.  Was  she  one  of  these !  He  dared  not  ask 
her.  To  have  her  so  declare  herself  enraptured  him. 
She  was  one  of  his  own  after  all. 

Moreover  she  was  one  with  him  in  religious  belief — 
that  was  a  distinct  comfort.  Catholics  were  not  num- 
erous, and  to  preserve  the  faith  was  no  slight  struggle. 
He  was  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  state  of  affairs 
in  the  province  of  New  York  where  Catholics  could 
not,  because  of  the  iniquitous  law  and  the  prescribed 
oath  of  office,  become  naturalized  as  citizens  of  the 
state.  He  knew  how  New  Jersey  had  excluded  Roman 
Catholics  from  office,  and  how  North  and  South  Caro- 
lina had  adopted  the  same  iniquitous  measure.  Penn- 
sylvania was  one  of  the  few  colonies  wherein  all  penal 
laws  directed  against  the  Catholics  had  been  absolutely 
swept  away.  To  meet  with  a  member  of  his  own  per- 


40  THE  LOYALIST 

secuted  Church,  especially  one  so  engaging  and  so 
interesting  as  Marjorie,  was  a  source  of  keen  joy  and 
an  unlooked-for  happiness. 

"You  will  not  deny  me  the  pleasure  of  paying  my 
respects  to  your  father  and  mother?"  Stephen  asked. 

She  murmured  something  as  he  let  go  her  hand. 
Stephen  thought  she  had  said,  "I  had  hoped  that  you 
would  come." 

"Tomorrow?"  he  ventured. 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  you  sup  with  us,"  she 
smiled  as  she  made  the  soft  reply. 

"Tomorrow  then  it  shall  be." 

They  rose  to  take  their  part  in  the  next  dance. 

Ill 

As  the  evening  wore  on  Peggy,  wearied  of  the  dance, 
sought  a  secluded  corner  of  the  great  room  to  compose 
herself.  She  had  been  disappointed  in  her  lottery,  for 
she  detested  the  thought  of  being  a  favor  for  a  French 
officer  and  had  taken  care  to  so  express  herself  at  home 
long  before.  She  could  not  rejoice  at  Marjorie's  good 
fortune  as  she  thought  it,  and  found  little  of  interest 
and  less  of  pleasure  in  the  evening's  doings. 

She  was  aroused  from  her  solitude  and  made  radiant 
on  the  instant  at  sight  of  the  Military  Governor,  limp- 
ing his  way  across  the  hall  in  her  direction.  He  had 
seen  her  seated  alone,  and  his  heart  urged  him  to  her 
side.  With  the  lowest  bow  of  which  he  was  then 
capable,  he  sought  the  pleasure  of  her  company.  Her 
color  heightened,  she  smiled  graciously  with  her  gray- 
blue  eyes,  and  accepted  his  hand.  He  led  the  way  to 
the  banquet  room  and  thence  to  the  balcony,  where 


THE  LOYALIST  41 

they  might  hear  the  music  and  view  the  dancing,  for 
his  lameness  made  dancing  impossible. 

"I  hesitate  to  condemn  a  young  lady  to  a  prison  seat, 
when  the  stately  minuet  sends  a  summons,"  he  said  as 
he  led  her  to  a  chair  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  balcony. 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you  made 
us  cast  lots,"  she  replied  quickly.  "I  was  wearying  of 
the  rounds  of  pleasure." 

"Is  the  company,  then,  all  too  gay?" 

"No,  rather  extravagant." 

"You  insisted  on  the  Mischienza  ladies  being  pres- 
ent." 

"And  can  you  not  distinguish  them?  Do  they  not 
appear  to  better  advantage  than  the  others?  Their 
gowns  are  superior,  they  give  evidence  of  more  usage 
in  society,  their  head-dress  is  higher  and  of  the  latest 
fashion." 

"And  their  hearts,  their  hopes,  their  sympathies! 
Where  are  they?" 

"You  know  where  mine  lay,"  she  adroitly  replied. 

"True,  you  did  wear  a  French  cockade,"  he  laughed. 

"Please  do  not  call  it  'French.'  I  scorn  all  things 
Trench.'  " 

"They  are  our  allies  now,  you  must  know." 

"For  which  I  am  most  sorry.  I  expect  no  mercy 
from  that  scheming  Papist  country,"  she  replied  bit- 
terly. 

"But  they  have  lent  us  much  money  at  a  time  when 
our  paper  currency  is  practically  worthless,  and  the 
assistance  of  their  fleet  is  now  momentarily  expected," 
the  General  went  on  to  explain. 

"And  to  what  purpose?  Lord  North  has  proposed 
to  meet  our  demands  most  liberally  and  with  our  con- 


42  THE  LOYALIST 

stitutional  liberties  secured,  I  fail  to  see  why  further 
strife  is  necessary." 

"But  our  independence  is  not  yet  secure." 

"It  was  secure  after  your  brilliant  victory  at  Sara- 
toga. With  the  collapse  of  Burgoyne,  England  saw 
that  further  campaigning  in  a  country  so  far  removed 
from  home  was  disastrous.  It  only  remained  to  for- 
mulate some  mutual  agreement.  We  have  triumphed. 
Why  not  be  magnanimous?  Why  subject  the  country 
to  a  terrible  strain  for  years  for  a  result  neither  ade- 
quate nor  secure?" 

She  talked  rapidly,  passionately.  It  was  evident 
from  the  manner  of  her  address  that  the  subject  was 
no  new  one  to  her. 

"You  can  be  court-martialed  for  treason?"  he  re- 
marked with  a  slight  smile  playing  about  the  heavy 
lines  of  his  mouth. 

"Is  it  treason  to  talk  of  the  welfare  of  the  country? 
I  look  upon  the  alliance  with  this  Catholic  and  despotic 
power  as  more  of  an  act  of  treason  than  the  total 
surrender  of  our  armies  to  King  George.  To  lose  our 
independence  is  one  thing;  but  to  subject  our  fair  land 
to  the  tyranny  of  the  Pope  and  his  emissary,  the  King 
of  France,  is  a  total  collapse.  Our  hopes  lie  in  Eng- 
land alone." 

The  Governor  was  struck  by  this  strange  reasoning. 
Why  had  this  mere  child  dared  to  express  the  very 
thoughts  which  were  of  late  intruding  themselves  upon 
his  mind,  but  which  he  dared  not  permit  to  cross  the 
seal  of  his  lips?  She  was  correct,  he  thought,  in  her 
reasoning,  but  bold  in  her  denunciation.  No  one  else 
had  dared  to  address  such  sentiments  to  him.  And 
now  he  was  confronted  with  a  young  lady  of  quick  wit 
and  ready  repartee  who  spoke  passionately  the  iden- 


THE  LOYALIST  43 

tical  reflections  of  his  more  mature  mind.  Clearly 
her  reasoning  was  not  without  some  consistency  and 
method. 

"I  am  afraid  that  you  are  a  little  Tory."  He  could 
not  allow  this  girl  to  think  that  she  had  impressed  him 
in  the  least. 

"Because  I  am  frank  in  the  expression  of  my  views?" 
She  turned  and  with  arched  eyebrows  surveyed  him. 
"Pardon  me,  if  you  will,  but  I  would  have  taken  no 
such  liberty  with  any  other  person.  You  gave  me  that 
privilege  when  you  forbade  my  alluding  to  your  former 
brilliant  exploits." 

"But  I  did  not  want  you  to  become  a  Tory." 

He  spoke  with  emphasis. 

"I  am  not  a  Tory  I  tell  you." 

"But  you  are  not  a  Whig?"  ,*/., 

"What,  an  ordinary  shop  maid  I" 

"They  are  true  patriots." 

"But  of  no  social  standing." 

"Tell  me  why  all  the  Mischienza  ladies  courtesied  to 
me  after  so  courtly  a  fashion,"  he  asked. 

"They  like  it.  It  is  part  of  their  life.  You  must 
know  that  nothing  pleases  a  woman  of  fashion  more 
than  to  bow  and  courtesy  before  every  person  of 
royalty,  and  to  count  those  who  precede  her  out  of  a 
room." 

"Surely,  Margaret,  you  are  no  such  menial?"  He 
compressed  his  lips  as  he  glanced  at  her  sharply.  He 
had  never  before  called  her  by  her  first  name  nor  pre- 
sumed to  take  this  liberty.  It  was  more  a  slip  of  the 
tongue  than  an  act  of  deliberate  choice,  yet  he  would 
not  have  recalled  the  word.  His  concern  lay  in  her 
manner  of  action. 

"And  why  not  a  menial?"     Evidently  she  took  no 


44  THE  LOYALIST 

notice  of  his  presumption,  or  at  least  pretended  not  to 
do  so.  "Piety  is  by  no  means  the  only  motive  which 
brings  women  to  church.  Position  in  life  is  precisely 
what  one  makes  it." 

"Does  social  prestige  appeal  to  you  then?" 

"I  love  it."  She  did  not  talk  to  him  directly  for  her 
attention  was  being  centered  upon  the  activities  on  the 
floor.  "I  think  that  a  woman  who  can  dress  with  taste 
and  distinction  possesses  riches  above  all  computation. 
See  Mrs.  Reed,  there.  How  I  envy  her!" 

"The  wife  of  the  President  of  the  Council?"  he 
asked  apprehensively,  bending  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  floor. 

"The  same.  She  enjoys  a  position  of  social  emi- 
nence. How  I  hate  her  for  it."  She  tapped  the  floor 
with  her  foot  as  she  spoke. 

"You  mean  that  you  dislike  her  less  than  you  envy 
her  position?" 

Just  then  her  young  squire  came  up  and  she  gave  him 
her  hand  for  a  minuet,  excusing  herself  to  the  Gov- 
ernor as  graciously  as  possible. 

Scarcely  had  she  disappeared  when  he  began  to 
muse.  What  a  fitting  companion  she  would  make  for 
a  man  of  his  rank  and  dignity !  That  she  was  socially 
ambitious  and  obsessed  with  a  passion  for  display  he 
well  knew.  She  was  not  yet  twenty  but  the  disparity 
in  their  ages, — he  was  about  thirty-seven  and  a  wid- 
ower with  three  sons, — would  be  offset  by  the  disparity 
of  their  stations.  No  one  in  the  city  kept  a  finer  stable 
of  horses  nor  gave  more  costly  dinners  than  he.  Every- 
body treated  him  with  deference,  for  no  one  presumed 
to  question  his  social  preeminence.  The  Whigs  ad- 
mired him  as  their  dashing  and  perhaps  their  most 
successful  General.  The  Tories  liked  him  because  of 


THE  LOYALIST  45 

his  aristocratic  display  and  his  position  in  regard  to 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Why  not  make  her 
his  bride? 

She  possessed  physical  charms  and  graces  in  a  sin- 
gular degree.  She  dressed  with  taste;  her  wardrobe 
was  of  the  finest.  Aristocratic  in  her  bearing,  she 
would  be  well  fitted  to  assume  the  position  of  the  first 
lady  of  the  town.  Peggy,  moreover,  possessed  a  will 
of  her  own.  This  was  revealed  to  him  more  than  once 
during  their  few  meetings,  and  if  proof  had  been  want- 
ing, the  lack  was  now  abundantly  supplied.  She  would 
make  an  ideal  wife,  and  he  resolved  to  enter  the  lists 
against  all  suitors. 

Her  mind  was  more  mature  than  her  years,  he 
thought.  This  he  gleaned  from  her  animated  discus- 
sion of  the  alliance.  And  there  was,  after  all,  more 
than  an  ounce  of  wisdom  in  her  point  of  view.  Mis- 
chief brewed  in  the  proposed  help  from  a  despotic 
power.  His  own  signal  victory  ended  the  war  if  only 
the  Colonists  would  enter  into  negotiations  or  give  an 
attentive  ear  to  the  liberal  proposals  of  Lord  North. 
The  people  did  not  desire  complete  independence  and 
he,  for  one,  had  never  fully  endorsed  the  Declaration. 
Her  point  of  view  was  right.  Better  to  accept  the  over- 
tures of  our  kinsmen  than  to  cast  our  lot  with  that 
Catholic  and  despotic  power. 

His  musings  were  arrested  by  the  arrival  of  an  aide, 
who  announced  that  he  was  needed  at  headquarters. 
He  arose  at  once  to  obey. 


CHAPTER  IV 


Stephen  awoke  late  the  next  morning.  As  he  lay 
with  eyes  closed,  half  asleep,  half  awake,  the  image  of 
his  partner  of  the  evening  sweetly  drifted  into  his 
dreamy  brain,  and  called  up  a  wealth  of  associations 
on  which  he  continued  to  dwell  with  rare  pleasure. 
But  the  ominous  suggestion  that  her  heart  could  not 
possibly  be  free,  that  perhaps  some  gay  officer,  or  bril- 
liant member  of  Howe's  staff,  or  a  gallant  French 
official,  many  of  whom  had  now  infested  the  town, 
was  a  favored  contestant  in  the  field,  filled  his  mind 
with  the  thoughts  of  dread  possibilities,  and  chased 
away  the  golden  vision  that  was  taking  shape.  He  sat 
upright  and,  pulling  aside  the  curtains  of  the  little 
window  that  flanked  his  bed,  he  peered  into  the  garden 
behind  the  house.  The  birds  were  singing,  but  not 
with  the  volume  or  rapture  which  is  their  wont  in  the 
early  morning.  The  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  and 
flung  its  reflecting  rays  from  the  trees  and  foliage; 
whence  he  concluded  that  the  morning  was  already  far 
advanced  and  that  it  was  well  past  the  hour  for  him 
to  be  astir. 

And  what  a  day  it  was !  One  of  those  rare  July  days 
when  the  tints  of  the  earth  and  the  hues  of  the  sky 
though  varied  in  color,  seem  to  blend  in  one  beautiful 
and  harmonious  whole.  The  cypress  and  the  myrtle, 
emblems  of  deeds  of  virtue  and  renown,  had  already 

46 


THE  LOYALIST  47 

donned  their  summer  dress.  The  many  flowers  bowed 
gently  under  the  weight  of  the  flitful  butterfly,  or 
the  industrious  bee,  or  tossed  to  and  fro  lightly  in  the 
arms  of  the  morning  breeze.  Overhead  maples,  re- 
splendent in  their  fabric  of  soft  and  delicate  green, 
arched  themselves  like  fine-spun  cobwebs,  through 
which  filigree  the  sun  projected  his  rays  at  irregular 
and  frequent  intervals,  lending  only  an  occasional  patch 
of  sunlight  here  and  there  to  the  more  exposed  portions 
of  the  garden. 

But  nature  had  no  power  to  drive  Marjorie's  image 
from  his  mind.  Try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  distract 
his  attention  to  the  many  problems  which  ordinarily 
would  have  engaged  thoughts.  What  mattered  it  to 
him  that  the  French  fleet  was  momentarily  expected, 
or  that  the  Continental  Congress  was  again  meeting  in 
the  city,  or  that  he  had  met  with  certain  suspicious 
looking  individuals  during  the  course  of  the  day!  There 
was  yet  one  who  looked  peculiarly  suspicious  and  who 
was  enveloped,  as  far  as  his  knowledge  was  concerned, 
in  a  veil  of  mystery  of  the  strangest  depth.  She,  indeed, 
was  a  flower  too  fair  to  blush  unseen  or  unattached. 
His  own  unworthiness  confounded  him. 

Nevertheless  he  was  determined  to  call  on  her  that 
very  day,  in  response  to  her  generous  invitation  of 
last  night,  and  in  accordance  too  with  the  custom  of  the 
time.  He  would  there,  perchance,  learn  more  of  her, 
of  her  home,  of  her  life,  of  her  friends.  But  would  he 
excite  in  her  the  interest  she  was  exciting  in  him?  The 
thought  of  his  possible  remoteness  from  her,  pained 
him  and  made  his  heart  sink.  The  noblest  characters 
experience  strange  sensations  of  desolation  and  wretch- 
edness at  the  thought  of  disapproval  and  rejection. 
Esteem,  the  testimony  of  our  neighbor's  appreciation, 


48  THE  LOYALIST 

the  approval  of  those  worth  while,  these  are  the  things 
for  which  we  yearn  with  fondest  hopes.  To  know 
that  we  have  done  well  is  satisfaction,  but  to  know  that 
our  efforts  and  our  work  are  valued  by  others  is  one  of 
the  noblest  of  pleasures.  Stephen  longed  to  know  how 
he  stood  in  the  lady's  esteem,  and  so  her  little  world 
was  his  universe. 

Dispatching  the  day's  business  as  best  he  could,  the 
expectant  knight  set  out  to  storm  the  castle  of  his  lady. 
Eager  as  he  was,  he  did  not  fail  to  note  the  imposing 
majesty  of  the  great  trees  which  lined  each  side  of  the 
wide  road  and  arched  themselves  into  a  peiiect  canopy 
overhead.  An  air  of  abundance  pervaded  the  whole 
scene  and  made  him  quite  oblivious  of  the  extreme 
warmth  of  the  afternoon. 

Ere  long  the  little  white  house  of  her  describing 
rose  before  him.  He  had  seen  it  many  times  in  other 
days,  but  now  it  was  invested  with  a  new  and  absorbing 
interest.  There  it  stood,  plain  yet  stately,  with  a  great 
pointed  and  shingled  roof,  its  front  and  side  walls  un- 
broken save  for  a  gentle  projection  supported  by  two 
uniform  Doric  pillars  which  served  as  a  sort  of  a 
portal  before  the  main  entrance.  Numerous  win- 
dows with  small  panes  of  glass,  and  with  trim  green 
shutters  thrown  full  open  revealing  neatly  arranged 
curtains,  glinted  and  glistened  in  the  beams  of  the 
afternoon  sun.  The  nearer  of  the  two  great  chimneys 
which  ran  up  the  sides,  like  two  great  buttresses  of  an 
old  English  abbey,  gave  indications  of  generous  and 
well-fed  fireplaces  recessed  in  the  walls  of  the  inner 
rooms.  The  lawns  and  walks  were  uncommonly  well 
kept,  and  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  little  home  was 
one  of  comfort  and  simplicity  and  neatness,  suggesting 
the  sweet  and  serene  happiness  reigning  within. 


THE  LOYALIST  49 

Stephen  closed  the  gate  behind  him.  A  moment  later 
he  had  seized  the  brass  knocker  and  delivered  three 
moderate  blows. 


"Captain  Meagher!"  gasped  a  soft  voice.  "I  am 
so  pleased  you  have  come." 

"Mistress  Allison,  the  pleasure  is  indeed  mine,  I 
assure  you,"  replied  Stephen  as  he  grasped  her  hand, 
releasing  it  with  a  gentle  pressure. 

She  led  the  way  into  the  narrow  hall. 

"Mother!"  she  addressed  a  sweetly  smiling  middle- 
aged  woman  who  now  stood  at  her  side,  "I  have  the 
honor  of  presenting  to  you,  Captain  Meagher,  of  the 
staff  of  General  Washington,  my  partner  of  last  even- 
ing." And  she  betrayed  a  sense  of  pride  in  that  bit  of 
history. 

Stephen  took  the  matron's  hand,  for  among  the 
Americans  the  custom  prevailed  of  shaking  hands, 
albeit  the  French  visitors  of  the  time  maintained  that 
it  was  a  "comic  custom."  Stephen  thought  it  demo- 
cratic, and  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  the  country. 

The  parlor  opened  immediately  to  the  right  and 
thither  Stephen  was  conducted  without  further  cere- 
mony. Mr.  Allison  would  be  in  shortly;  he  was  as 
yet  busied  with  the  trade  at  the  shop.  The  old  clock 
at  the  corner  of  the  room,  with  its  quaint  figure  of  Time 
adorning  the  top,  and  its  slowly  moving  pendulum, 
proclaimed  the  hour  of  five,  the  hour  when  the  duties 
of  the  day  came  to  a  close  and  social  life  began. 
The  old  fireplace,  black  in  this  season  of  desuetude, 
but  brilliant  in  its  huge  brass  andirons  like  two  pilas- 
ters of  gold,  caught  the  eye  at  the  extreme  end  of  the 


50  THE  LOYALIST 

room,  while  in  the  corner  near  the  window  a  round 
mahogany  tea-table,  stood  upright  like  an  expanded 
fan  or  palm  leaf. 

Stephen  seated  himself  in  a  great  chair  that  lay  to 
one  side  of  the  room. 

"I  had  the  good  fortune  of  being  your  daughter's 
partner  for  the  evening,  and  I  am  happy  to  be  enabled 
to  pay  my  respects  to  you."  Stephen  addressed  Mrs. 
Allison  who  was  nearer  to  him  on  his  left. 

"Marjorie  told  me,  Captain,  of  your  extreme  kind- 
ness to  her.  We  appreciate  it  very  much.  Did  she 
conduct  herself  becomingly?  She  is  a  stranger  to  such 
brilliant  affairs." 

"Splendidly!"  answered  Stephen.  "And  she  danced 
charmingly,"  and  he  slyly  looked  at  her  as  he  spoke 
and  thought  he  detected  a  faint  blush. 

"I  did  not  attend  on  account  of  its  extravagance,", 
remarked  Mrs.  Allison.  "I  had  duties  at  home,  and 
Marjorie  was  well  attended." 

"Indeed!"  pronounced  Marjorie. 

"It  was  magnificent,  to  be  sure,"  went  on  Stephen, 
"but  it  will  excite  no  uncertain  comment.  Republican 
simplicity  last  night  was  lost  from  sight." 

"Which  I  scarce  approve  of,"  declared  Marjorie. 

"You  did  not  suit  your  action  to  your  thought," 
smiled  her  mother. 

"True,"  replied  the  girl,  "yet  I  told  you  that  I  was 
anxious  to  attend  simply  to  behold  the  novelty  of  it 
all.  Now  that  it  is  over,  I  disapprove  of  the  splendor 
and  extravagance  especially  in  these  times  of  need." 

"Yes,"  volunteered  Stephen,  "she  did  voice  similar 
sentiments  to  me  last  evening.  Nevertheless  she  is  not 
alone  in  her  criticism.  The  Gazette  today  publishes 
a  leading  article  excoriating  the  Military  Governor  for 


THE  LOYALIST  51 

his  use  of  the  teams,  which  he  had  commanded  under 
pretense  of  revictualing  of  the  army,  for  the  trans- 
portation of  his  private  effects  to  and  from  the  City 
Tavern.  It  spells  dissatisfaction  at  best." 

"There  has  been  dissatisfaction  from  the  first  day  on 
which  he  took  up  residence  at  the  Slate  Roof  House," 
said  Mrs.  Allison. 

The  figure  of  Mr.  Allison  appeared  in  the  room  to 
the  rear.  Stephen  made  haste  to  stand  to  greet  him, 
expressing  his  extreme  pleasure. 

It  was  a  great  day  for  a  tradesman  when  an  officer 
of  the  Continental  Army  supped  at  his  table.  The 
house  was  in  a  mild  uproar  since  Marjorie  announced 
the  coming  distinction  on  her  return  from  the  ball. 
From  the  kitchen  chimney  went  up  a  pillar  of  smoke. 
Mrs.  Allison  and  two  of  her  neighbors  who  were  proud 
to  lend  assistance  on  such  an  important  occasion  could 
be  seen  passing  in  and  out  continually.  A  large  roast 
lay  simmering  and  burnished  in  the  pan  diffusing  sav- 
ory and  provoking  fumes  throughout  the  house.  And 
it  was  with  distinct  pride  that  Mrs.  Allison  announced 
to  the  company  that  they  might  take  their  places  about 
the  festive  board. 

The  discourse  bore  on  various  matters,  prominence 
being  given  to  politics  and  the  affairs  of  the  army.  Mr. 
Allison  took  care  to  ask  no  question  that  might  give 
rise  to  embarrassment  on  the  part  of  Stephen.  The 
complaints  of  the  tradesmen,  the  charges  of  the  Whigs, 
the  murmurings  of  the  Tories  and  the  annoying  articles 
in  the  morning  Gazette,  all,  were  touched  upon  in  the 
course  of  the  meal.  Stephen  volunteered  the  informa- 
tion that  Conway  and  Gates  were  in  hiding  and  that 
Clinton  was  driven  to  New  York  where  Washington 


52  THE  LOYALIST 

was  watching  his  every  move,  like  a  hawk,  from  the 
heights  of  Morristown. 

"General  Washington  holds  General  Arnold  in  the 
highest  esteem,"  remarked  Mr.  Allison. 

"As  the  bravest  general  in  the  Continental  Army," 
quietly  replied  Stephen. 

"He  would  make  a  poor  statesman,"  went  on  the 
host. 

"He  is  a  soldier  first  and  last." 

"Should  a  soldier  be  wanting  in  tact  and  diplo- 
macy?" 

"A  good  soldier  should  possess  both." 

"Then  General  Arnold  is  not  a  good  soldier,"  de- 
clared Mr.  Allison. 

"A  criticism  he  hardly  deserves,"  was  the  simple 
reply. 

"You  saw  the  Gazette?" 

"Yes.  I  read  that  article  to  which  you  undoubtedly 
refer." 

"And  you  agree  with  it?" 

"No.    I  do  not." 

"I  am  sorry  about  it  all.  Yet  I  am  inclined  to  hold 
the  Governor  responsible  to  a  great  extent.  He  would 
be  an  aristocrat,  and  it  is  the  society  of  such  that  he 
covets." 

"Perhaps  jealousy  might  inspire  criticism.  Envy, 
you  know,  is  the  antagonist  of  the  fortunate." 

"But  it  is  not  his  deeds  alone  that  cause  the  unrest 
among  our  citizens.  It  is  not  what  he  does  but  what 
he  says.  It  helps  matters  not  in  the  least  to  express 
dissatisfaction  with  the  manner  of  conducting  the  war, 
neither  by  criticizing  the  enactments  of  the  Congress, 
nor  vehemently  opposing  the  new  foreign  alliance. 


THE  LOYALIST  53 

This  does  not  sound  well  from  the  lips  of  one  of  our 
foremost  leaders  and  we  do  not  like  it." 

"I  was  not  aware  that  he  voiced  any  opposition  to 
the  furtherance  of  the  alliance  with  France,"  declared 
Stephen. 

"He  might  not  have  spoken  in  formal  protest,  Sut 
he  has  spoken  in  an  informal  manner  times  without 
number,"  replied  Mr.  Allison. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that.  I  did  not  expect  such  from 
General  Arnold,"  muttered  Stephen. 

Marjorie  had  as  yet  taken  no  part  in  the  conversa- 
tion. She  was  interested  and  alive,  however,  to  every 
word,  anxious,  if  possible,  to  learn  Stephen's  attitude  in 
respect  to  the  common  talk.  She  took  delight  in  his 
defense  of  his  General,  notwithstanding  the  over- 
whelming evidence  against  him  and  was  proud  of  the 
trait  of  loyalty  her  guest  disclosed  in  the  face  of  her 
father's  opposition. 

Mrs.  Allison  and  Marjorie  participated  in  the  con- 
versation when  the  topics  bore,  for  the  most  part,  on 
current  events,  uninteresting  to  Mr.  Allison,  who 
munched  in  silence  until  some  incomplete  sentence 
called  for  a  remark  or  two  from  him  by  way  of  a  con- 
clusion. Stephen's  animated  interest  in  the  more  com- 
mon topics  of  the  day  led  Mrs.  Allison  and  Marjorie 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  a  more  practical  and 
a  more  versatile  man  than  the  head  of  their  own  house. 

All  in  all  he  made  a  profound  impression  on  the 
family,  and  when  the  repast  was  finished  and  the  table 
had  been  cleared,  they  sat  over  the  fruit  and  the  nuts, 
before  retiring  to  the  living  room  for  the  evening. 


54  THE  LOYALIST 

in 

"You  are  not  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  brilliant 
functions?"  Stephen  asked  of  Marjorie  when  they 
were  quite  alone.  It  was  customary  for  the  older  folks 
to  retire  from  the  company  of  the  younger  set  shortly 
after  the  dinner  grace  had  been  said.  Of  course  grace 
had  to  be  said;  Mr.  Allison  would  permit  no  bread 
to  be  broken  at  his  house  without  first  imploring  bene- 
dictions from  Heaven,  and,  when  the  formalities  of  the 
meal  had  been  concluded,  of  returning  thanks  for  the 
good  things  enjoyed. 

"I  never  have  attended  before,"  answered  Mar- 
jorie, smoothing  out  a  side  of  her  apron  with  her 
hand. 

"You  are  quite  friendly  with  the  Shippen  family,  I 
understand." 

"Oh,  yes!  For  several  years  we  have  been  united. 
I  am  invited  to  all  their  functions.  Still  I  am  not  fond 
of  society." 

"And  you  spend  your  time  alone?"  Stephen  was 
persistent  in  his  questions  as  he  sat  opposite  to  her  and 
studied  her  expression. 

"Between  here  and  the  store,  and  perhaps  with 
Peggy.  That  is  about  all  for  I  seldom  visit.  I  am 
hopelessly  old-fashioned  in  some  things,  mother  tells 
me,  and  I  suppose  you  will  say  the  same  if  I  tell  you 
more,"  and  she  looked  at  him  slyly,  with  her  head  half- 
raised,  her  lips  parted  somewhat  in  a  quizzical  smile. 

"Not  at  all!  You  are  what  I  rather  hoped  to  find 
you,  although  I  did  not  dare  to  give  expression  to  it. 
You  can,  possibly,  be  of  some  assistance  to  me." 

"Gladly    would    I    perform    any    service,    however 


THE  LOYALIST  55 

humble,  for  the  cause  of  our  country,"  Marjorie  sat 
upright,  all  attention  at  the  thought. 

"You  remember  I  told  you  that  I  was  detailed  in  the 
city  on  special  work,"  Stephen  went  on. 

"I  do." 

"Well,  it  is  a  special  work  but  it  also  is  a  very  indefi- 
nite work.  There  is  a  movement  afoot,  but  of  its 
nature,  and  purpose,  I  at  this  moment  am  entirely 
ignorant.  I  am  here  to  discover  clews." 

"And  have  you  no  material  to  work  on  except  that? 
It  is  very  vague,  to  say  the  least." 

"That  and  suspicion.  Howe  found  the  city  a  nest 
of  Tories;  but  he  also  found  it  swarmed  with  patriots, 
whose  enthusiasm,  and  vigor,  and  patience,  and  deter- 
mination must  have  impressed  him  profoundly,  and 
portended  disaster  for  the  British  cause.  With  the 
morale  of  the  people  so  high,  and  renewed  hope  and 
confidence  swelling  their  bosoms,  a  complete  military 
victory  must  have  appeared  hopeless  to  the  British 
General.  What  was  left?  Dissension,  or  rebellion, 
or  treason,  or  anything  that  will  play  havoc  with  the 
united  determination  of  the  Colonists." 

She  breathed  heavily  as  she  rested  her  chin  on  her 
hand  absorbed  in  the  vision  that  he  was  calling  up. 

"Arnold's  victory  at  Saratoga  has  convinced  Britain 
that  the  war  over  here  cannot  be  won,"  he  continued. 
"Already  has  Lord  North  thrown  a  bomb  into  the 
ranks  of  the  proud  Tories  by  his  liberal  proposals. 
Of  course  they  will  be  entirely  rejected  by  us  and  the 
war  will  continue  until  complete  independence  is 
acknowledged.  True,  we  had  no  such  idea  in  mind 
when  we  entered  this  conflict,  but  now  we  are  con- 
vinced that  victory  is  on  our  side  and  that  a  free  and 
independent  form  of  government  is  the  most  suitable 


56  THE  LOYALIST 

for  us.  We  have  enunciated  certain  principles  which 
are  possible  of  realization  only  under  a  democratic 
form  of  government,  where  the  people  rule  and  where 
the  rulers  are  responsible  to  the  people.  Such  a  system 
is  possible  only  in  a  great  republic,  and  that  is  what 
England  must  now  recognize.  Otherwise  the  war  must 
go  on." 

"Have  our  aims  taken  such  definite  form.  I 
know " 

"No!  They  have  not,"  interrupted  Stephen,  "they 
have  not  and  that  is  where  trouble  is  to  be  expected. 
Such  is  the  state  of  mind,  however,  of  many  of  the 
more  experienced  leaders,  but  their  opinion  will  lose 
weight.  It  is  because  all  are  not  united  in  this,  that 
there  is  room  for  treason  under  the  motive  of  mis- 
guided patriotism.  And  it  is  to  scent  every  possible 
form  of  that  disloyalty  that  I  have  been  sent  here; 
sent  to  the  very  place  where  the  Tories  most  abound 
and  where  such  a  plot  is  most  liable  to  take  root." 

"And  you  expect  me  to  be  of  assistance  to  you?" 
asked  Marjorie,  proud  of  the  confidence  which  she  so 
readily  gained. 

"I  expect  much.  But  perhaps  nothing  will  eventu- 
ate. I  can  rely  on  you,  however.  For  the  present, 
naught  is  to  be  done.  When  the  time  comes,  I  shall 
tell  you." 

"But  what  can  I  do?    I  am  but  a  mere  girl." 

"Did  I  think  you  to  be  ordinary,  I  might  not  have 
asked  you,"  quickly  exchanged  Stephen. 

Marjorie  dropped  her  head  and  began  studying  the 
stitches  in  her  gown.  But  only  for  a  second,  for  she  as 
quickly  raised  her  head  and  asked: 

"Wherein,  then,  can  I  be  of  service  to  you?" 

"Listen!"     He  brought  his  chair  to  a  point  nearly 


THE  LOYALIST  57 

opposite  hers.  She  was  seated  on  the  settee,  yet  he 
made  no  attempt  to  share  it  with  her. 

"You  are  friendly  with  the  Shippen  family,"  he  went 
on.  "Now,  do  not  misinterpret  me.  I  shall  require  no 
betrayal  of  confidence.  But  it  is  generally  known  that 
the  Shippens  are  Tories,  not  avowedly  so,  yet  in  heart 
and  in  thought.  It  is  also  generally  known  that  their 
house  was  the  center  of  society  during  the  days  of  the 
British  occupation,  at  which  all  manner  of  men  assem- 
bled. The  walls  of  that  house,  could  they  but  speak, 
would  be  able  to  relate  many  momentous  conversations 
held  over  the  teacups,  or  in  quiet  corners.  The  family 
themselves  must  know  many  things  which  might  be 
invaluable  to  us." 

"And  you  want  me  to  learn  that  for  you?"  inquired 
Marjorie  in  alarm  as  the  horrible  thought  forced  itself 
upon  her. 

"I  want  you  to  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  quickly 
answered  Stephen.  "Far  be  it  from  me  to  require  you 
to  barter  your  benevolence.  I  should  deplore  any  such 
method  as  most  dishonorable  and  unworthy  of  the 
noble  cause  in  which  we  are  engaged.  No  I  I  ask  this, 
simply,  that  through  you  I  might  be  permitted  the 
honor  of  visiting  the  home  of  Miss  Shippen  and  that 
by  being  acquainted  with  the  family  I  might  acquire  a 
general  entree  to  the  Tory  social  circle.  In  this  way  I 
might  effect  my  purpose  and  perchance  stumble  across 
information  of  vital  importance.  Thus  can  you  be  of 
great  assistance  to  me." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  do  this,  and  I  shall  tell  you 
more — perhaps  you  may  ask  me  to  do  something 
more  noble — sometime "  She  hesitated  to  ex- 
press the  wish  which  was  father  to  her  thought. 


58  THE  LOYALIST 

"Sometime  I  expect  you  to  be  of  real  service  to  me 
and  to  our  country — sometime " 

Marjorie  did  not  answer.  She  knew  what  she  would 
like  to  say,  but  dared  not.  Why  should  he  unfold  his 
mission  to  her  at  this,  almost  their  first  meeting?  And 
why  should  he  expect  her  to  be  of  such  assistance  to 
him,  to  him,  first,  and  then  to  the  country?  And  then, 
why  should  she  feel  so  responsive,  so  ready  to  spend 
herself,  her  energy,  her  whole  being  at  the  mere  sug- 
gestion of  this  young  man,  whom  until  last  evening,  she 
had  never  thought  to  exist.  She  felt  that  she  was  as 
wax  in  the  hands  of  this  soldier;  she  knew  it  and  en- 
joyed it  and  only  awaited  the  moment  when  his  seal 
would  come  down  upon  her  and  stamp  her  more  to  his 
liking.  She  was  slightly  younger  than  he,  and  hap- 
pily his  contrary  in  nearly  all  respects.  He  was  fair, 
she  was  dark;  his  eyes  were  blue,  hers  brown;  he  was 
lusty  and  showed  promise  of  broadness,  she  was 
slender. 

Twice  she  opened  her  mouth  as  if  to  speak  to  him, 
and  each  time  she  dropped  again  her  head  in  reflective 
silence.  She  did  not  talk  to  this  young  man  as  she 
might  to  any  number  of  her  more  intimate  acquaint- 
ances. Even  the  very  silence  was  magnetic.  Further 
utterance  would  dispel  the  charm.  That  she  would  en- 
list in  his  service  she  knew  as  well  as  she  knew  her  own 
existence,  but  that  he  should  arouse  so  keen  an  interest 
in  her,  so  buoyant  an  attitude,  so  secure  an  assurance, 
amazed  her  and  filled  her  with  awe.  She  had  never 
before  experienced  quite  the  same  sensation  that  now 
dismayed  her  nor  had  any  one  ever  brought  home  to 
her  her  worth  as  did  this  young  soldier.  Yes  she  would 
help  him,  but  in  what  way? 

And  so  they  sat  and  considered  and  talked.    They 


THE  LOYALIST  59 

soon  forgot  to  talk  about  His  Excellency,  or  the  Army, 
or  the  Shippens.  Neither  did  they  resolve  the  doubts 
that  might  have  been  entertained  concerning  the  man- 
ner of  men  who  frequented  the  home  of  Peggy  and  her 
sisters;  nor  the  Alliance  which  had  just  been  estab- 
lished, nor  the  vital  signification  of  the  event.  They 
just  talked  over  a  field  of  affairs  none  of  which  bore 
any  special  relation  to  any  one  save  their  own  selves. 
At  length  the  old  clock  felt  constrained  to  speak  up  and 
frown  at  them  for  their  unusual  delay  and  their  profli- 
gate waste  of  tallow  and  dips. 

Stephen  rose  at  once.  Marjorie  saw  him  to  the  door, 
where  she  gave  him  her  hand  in  parting. 

"We  have  indeed  been  honored  this  day,  Captain, 
and  I  trust  that  the  near  future  will  see  a  return  of  the 
same.  I  am  entirely  at  your  service,"  whispered  Mar- 
jorie, wondering  why  the  words  did  not  come  to  her 
more  readily. 

"On  the  contrary,  Miss  Allison,  it  is  I  who  have  been 
privileged.  My  humble  respects  to  your  parents. 
Adieu!" 

He  bowed  gracefully,  wheeled,  and  went  out  the 
door. 


CHAPTER  V 


The  Corner  of  Market  and  Front  Streets  was  brisk 
with  life  and  activity  at  twelve,  the  change  hour,  every 
day.  Here  assembled  the  merchants  of  the  city,  mem- 
bers of  the  upper  class  who  cared  enough  about  the 
rest  of  the  world  to  make  an  inquiry  into  its  progress; 
men  of  leisure  about  town  whose  vocation  in  life  was 
to  do  nothing  and  who  had  the  entire  day  in  which  to 
do  it.  All  conditions,  all  varieties  of  character  joined 
the  ranks.  Soldiers,  restless  from  the  monotony  of 
army  life  and  desirous  of  the  license  usually  associated 
with  leave  of  absence;  civilians  eager  in  the  pursuit  of 
truth  or  of  scandal;  patriots  impatient  with  the  yoke 
of  foreign  rule;  Tories  exasperated  with  the  turn  of 
the  war  and  its  accompanying  privations; — all  gath- 
ered together  at  the  Old  London  Coffee  House  day 
after  day. 

It  stood,  an  imposing  three-storied,  square  structure, 
with  a  great  wing  extending  far  in  the  rear.  Its  huge 
roof,  fashioned  for  all  the  world  after  a  truncated 
pyramid  with  immense  gables  projecting  from  its  sides, 
gave  every  indication  of  having  sheltered  many  a  guest 
from  the  snows  and  rains  of  winter.  A  great  chimney 
ran  up  the  side  and  continually  belched  forth  smoke 
and  sparks,  volumes  of  them,  during  the  days  and 
nights  of  the  cold  winter  season.  A  portico  of  no  par- 
ticular style  of  architecture  ran  around  two  sides  of  the 

60 


THE  LOYALIST  61 

ancient  building  and  afforded  a  meeting  place  for  the 
majority  of  the  guests.  It  was  furnished  with  many 
chairs,  faithfully  tenanted  when  the  season  was  pro- 
pitious. 

Thither  Stephen  and  Mr.  Allison  were  directing 
their  steps  more  than  a  week  after  they  had  last  met 
at  the  home  of  the  latter.  It  was  by  the  merest  chance 
they  encountered.  Stephen  was  seeking  a  healthful 
reaction  from  a  vigorous  walk  through  the  less-fre- 
quented part  of  the  city;  Mr.  Allison  was  making  his 
daily  visit  to  the  Coffee  House.  Stephen  had  often 
heard  of  the  tavern,  but  had  never  been  there.  Still 
he  was  resolved  to  seek  an  introduction  to  its  clientele 
at  the  first  propitious  moment.  That  moment  had  now 
come. 

Upon  entering,  their  attention  was  at  once  arrested 
by  the  animated  discussion  in  progress  at  a  table  in 
the  nearest  corner  of  the  room.  An  officer  of  the  Gov- 
ernor's Guard,  in  full  regimentals,  booted  and  spurred, 
in  company  with  a  gentleman,  finely  dressed,  was  talk- 
ing loudly  to  Jim  Cadwalader,  who  was  seated  before 
them  holding  a  half-opened  newspaper  in  his  hand. 
It  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  the  soldier  was  somewhat 
under  the  influence  of  liquor,  yet  one  could  not  call  him 
intoxicated. 

"Gi'  me  that  an'  I'll  show  y',"  exclaimed  the  soldier 
as  he  grabbed  the  paper  from  Cadwalader's  hand. 

"Y'  were  told,"  he  went  on  to  read  from  it,  "that 
it  was  t'  avoid  the  'stabl'shment  'r  count'nancin',"  he 
half  mumbled  the  words,  "of  Pop'ry;  an  that  Pop'ry 
was  'stabl'shed  in  Canada  (where  't  was  only  tol- 
'rated) .  And  is  not  Pop'ry  now  as  much  'stabl'shed  by 
law  in  your  state  's  any  other  rel'gion?"  "Just  what  I 
was  sayin',"  he  interpolated.  "So  that  your  Gov'nor 


62  THE  LOYALIST 

and  all  your  rulers  may  be  Papists,  and  you  may  have  a 
Mass-House  in  ev'ry  corner  o'  your  country  (as  some 
places  already  'xper'ence)." 

"There!"  he  snarled  as  he  threw  back  the  paper. 
"Isn't  that  what  I  wuz  tryin'  t'  tell  y'." 

"You  can't  tell  me  nothin',  Forrest,"  retorted  Jim. 

"Course  I  can't.    Nobody  kin.    Y'  know  't  all." 

"I  can  mind  my  own  bus'ness." 

"There  y'  are  agin,"  shouted  Forrest,  "y'  know  't 
all,  ye  do." 

"Don't  say  that  again,"  Jim  flared  back  at  him. 
•Til—I'll— I'll .  Don't  say  it  again,  that's  all." 

"  'Cause  y'  know  'ts  true." 

"It's  a  lie,"  Jim  interrupted  him.  "Ye  know  it's  a 
lie.  But  I  don't  'spect  much  of  ye,  'r  of  the  Gov'nor 
either.  None  of  ye  '11  ever  be  Papists." 

"Now  you're  talkin'  sens'ble;  first  sens'ble  thing 
you've  said  t'day.  No  Papists  here  if  we  kin  help  it." 

Stephen  and  Mr.  Allison,  keenly  interested  in  this 
remark,  moved  nearer  to  the  table.  Cadwalader  was 
well  known  to  Mr.  Allison.  The  others  were  total 
strangers. 

"What's  he  goin'  t'  do  about  the  help  from  France? 
Refuse  it  'cause  it's  from  a  Catholic  country?"  asked 
Jim. 

"He  don't  like  it  and  never  did." 

"Is  he  fool  'nough  t'  think  we  can  win  this  war 
without  help?" 

"He  won  it  once." 

"When?" 

"Saratoga." 

"That's  his  story.  We  didn't  have  it  won  and  it 
won't  be  won  without  troops  and  with  somethin'  besides 
shin-plasters."  He  turned  sideways,  crossed  one  leg 


THE  LOYALIST  63 

over  the  other  and  began  to   drum  upon  the   table. 

"We  must  hev  help,"  he  went  on.  "We  must  hev 
it  and  it  must  come  from  France  'r  Spain." 

"They  y'  are  agin,"  repeated  Forrest,  "as  if  one 
wuzn't  as  much  under  th'  Pope  as  th'  other." 

"Forrest!"  he  turned  toward  him  and  shook  his 
finger  at  him  in  a  menacing  sort  of  way.  "Don't  say 
that  agin.  Mind  what  I  tell  ye.  Don't  say  it  again — 
that's  all.  When  I'm  mad,  I'm  not  myself." 

"Is  that  so?  I  s'pose  I'm  wrong  agin,  an'  you're 
right.  Tell  me  this.  What  did  yer  fool  leg'slature  in 
Vi'ginya  do  th'  other  day?" 

"I  don't  know,"  murmured  Jim.  "What  did  they 
do?" 

"There  y'  are  agin.  I  thought  y'  knew  it  all.  Think 
y'  know  ev'rythin'  an'  y'  know  nothin'.  Passed  a  reso- 
lution fur  a  Papist  priest,  didn't  they?" 

"And  why?"  pronounced  Jim,  flushed  with  anger,  his 
lower  lip  quivering  with  emotion.  "  'Cause  he  did  more 
fur  his  country,  than  you  or  I'll  ever  do.  Father 
Gibault!  And  if  it  wazn't  fur  him,  Colonel  Clark  'd 
never  hev  op'nd  th'  Northwest." 

"That's  just  what  I  say.  The  Papists  '11  soon  own 
the  whole  damn  country." 

Stephen  and  Mr.  Allison  moved  as  if  to  join  the 
discussion,  which  had  at  this  juncture  become  loud 
enough  to  lose  the  character  of  intimacy.  Jim  was 
well  known  to  the  guests  of  the  house.  The  man  who 
was  known  as  Forrest,  was,  it  was  plain  from  his  uni- 
form, a  Colonel  in  the  army.  The  other  man  was  a 
stranger.  Much  younger  than  his  companion,  tall, 
manly,  clad  in  a  suit  of  black,  with  his  hair  in  full  dress, 
well-powdered  and  gathered  behind  in  a  large  silken 
bag,  he  gave  every  appearance  of  culture  and  refine- 


64  THE  LOYALIST 

ment.  He  wore  a  black  cocked  hat,  whose  edges  were 
adorned  with  a  black  feather  about  an  inch  in  depth, 
his  knees  as  well  as  his  shoes  adorned  with  silver 
buckles. 

"If  they  did  own  th'  country,"  was  Jim's  grave  reply, 
"we'd  hev  a  healthier  place  to  live  in  than  we  now  hev." 

"An'  whose  doin'  it?"  shouted  Forrest.  "The 
Papists." 

"Thou  liest!"  interrupted  Mr.  Allison,  intruding 
himself  into  their  midst,  "a  confounded  lie.  Remem- 
ber, the  Catholics  have  given  their  all  to  this  war — 
their  goods,  their  money,  their  sons." 

"Heigh-ho!  who're  you?"  asked  the  soldier.  "What 
d'  you  know  'bout  the  army?  Hardly  'nough  'f  them 
to  go  aroun'." 

"A  malicious  untruth.  Why,  half  the  rebel  army  it- 
self is  reported  to  have  come  from  Ireland." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"From  the  testimony  of  General  Robertson  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  And  if  these  soldiers  are  Irishmen,, 
you  can  wager  they're  Catholics.  And  why  should  we 
pass  laws  'gainst  these  crowds  of  Irish  Papists  and  con- 
victs who  are  yearly  poured  upon  us,  unless  they  were 
Catholic  convicts  fleeing  from  the  laws  of  persecu- 
tion?" 

"What  ails  ye,  Forrest,"  rejoined  Jim,  "can't  be 
cured." 

"Take  care  'f  yourself,"  angrily  retorted  the  Colo- 
nel, "an'  I'll  take  care  o'  myself." 

"If  ye  did,  and  yer  likes  did  the  same,  we'd  git 
nlong  better  and  the  war  'd  be  over.  I  s'pose  ye  know 
hat  yer  friend  Jay  lost  Canada  to  us." 

"What  if  he  did.    Wazn't  he  right?" 

And  then  he  explained  to  him. 


THE  LOYALIST  65 

ii 

Canada  had  been  surrendered  to  England  by  France 
in  a  clause  of  the  Treaty  of  Paris  in  1763,  with  a  stipu- 
lation, however,  that  the  people  of  the  territory  in 
question  would  be  permitted  the  free  use  of  the  French 
language,  the  prescriptions  of  the  French  code  of  laws, 
and  the  practice  of  the  Catholic  religion. 

South  of  this  region  and  west  of  the  English  colonies 
between  the  Ohio  and  the  Mississippi  rivers,  stretched 
a  vast  expanse  of  territory  known  as  the  Northwest 
Territory,  where  dwelt  a  large  population  without 
laws,  with  no  organized  form  of  government  save  the 
mere  caprices  of  petty  military  tyrants,  placed  over 
them  by  the  various  seaboard  colonies  who  severally 
laid  claim  to  the  district.  At  the  request  of  the  people 
of  Canada  it  was  voted  by  the  English  Parliament  to 
reannex  the  territory  northwest  of  the  Ohio  to  Canada 
and  to  permit  the  settlers  to  share  in  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  the  Canadian  province.  This  was  effected 
by  the  Quebec  Act  in  1774. 

It  was  truly  a  remarkable  concession.  The  inhabit- 
ants of  this  vast  stretch  of  territory  were  freed  for 
all  time  from  the  tyranny  of  military  despots,  their 
lands  and  churches  secured  to  them  and  their  priests 
given  a  legal  title  to  their  tithes.  It  was  the  freest 
exercise  of  the  Catholic  religion  under  the  laws  of  the 
English  Government. 

But  what  a  storm  of  abuse  and  protestation  was 
raised  by  the  fanatical  portion  of  the  Protestant  popu- 
lation! The  newspapers  of  the  day  abounded  with 
articles,  with  songs  and  squibs  against  the  King  and 
His  Parliament.  The  mother  country  witnessed  no  less 
virulent  a  campaign  than  the  colonies  themselves.  "We 


66  THE  LOYALIST 

may  live  to  see  our  churches,"  writes  one  writer  to 
the  Pennsylvania  Packet,  "converted  into  mass-houses, 
and  our  lands  plundered  of  tithes  for  the  support  of  a 
Popish  clergy.  The  Inquisition  may  erect  her  stand- 
ard in  Pennsylvania  and  the  city  of  Philadelphia  may 
yet  experience  the  carnage  of  St.  Bartholomew's  day." 
Processions  were  formed  about  the  country  and  in 
some  places  the  bust  of  George  III,  adorned  with 
miter,  beads  nnd  a  pectoral  cross,  was  carried  in  tri- 
umphal march. 

The  forms  of  protest  found  their  way  ultimately  into 
the  halls  of  the  First  American  Congress  which  con- 
vened in  Philadelphia  in  1774.  The  recent  legislation 
was  enumerated  among  the  wrongs  done  the  colonies 
by  the  mother  country.  Feeling  became  so  bitter  that 
an  address  was  issued  by  the  Congress  on  the  fifth  of 
September,  1774,  "to  the  people  of  Great  Britain" 
saying:  "We  think  the  Legislature  of  Great  Britain 
is  not  authorized  by  the  Constitution  to  establish  a 
religion,  fraught  with  sanguinary  and  impious  tenets, 
or  to  erect  an  arbitrary  form  of  government  in  any 
quarter  of  the  globe."  "By  another  act  the  Dominion 
of  Canada  is  to  be  extended,  modeled  and  governed, 
as  that  being  disunited  from  us,  detached  from  our 
interests  by  civil  as  well  as  religious  prejudices,  that  by 
their  numbers  daily  swelling  with  Catholic  emigrants 
from  Europe,  and  by  their  devotion  to  administration 
so  friendly  to  their  religion,  they  might  become  for- 
midable to  us,  and  on  occasion  be  fit  instruments  in  the 
hands  of  power  to  reduce  the  ancient  free  Protestant 
colonies  to  the  same  state  of  slavery  with  themselves." 
Little  did  they  think  that  the  breach  they  were  attempt- 
ing to  heal  was  widened  by  their  procedure.  The 


THE  LOYALIST  67 

author  of  the  address  was  John  Jay,  a  lawyer  from 
New  York,  with  whom  Papaphobia  was  a  mania. 

Nor  did  the  failure  of  this  method  of  diplomacy 
become  apparent  until  several  years  later.  The  meas- 
ure of  appreciation  and  the  expression  of  sentiment  of 
the  Canadian  people  in  regard  to  this  ill-timed  and 
unchristian  address,  conceived  in  a  fit  of  passion  and 
by  no  means  representative  of  the  sentiments  of  the 
saner  portion  of  the  population,  took  expression  at  a 
more  critical  time.  When,  in  1776,  the  members  of  the 
same  Congress,  viewing  with  alarm  the  magnitude  of 
the  struggle  upon  which  they  had  entered  and  to  whose 
success  they  had  pledged  their  honor,  their  fortunes 
and  their  lives,  sought  to  enlist  the  resources  of  their 
neighbors  in  Canada,  they  met  with  a  sudden  and 
calamitous  disappointment.  To  effect  an  alliance 
with  the  border  brethren,  three  commissioners  were 
appointed — Benjamin  Franklin,  Samuel  Chase,  and 
Charles  Carroll  of  Carrollton.  Father  John  Carroll,  a 
Jesuit  priest,  was  invited  by  the  Congress  to  accom- 
pany the  party. 

Arriving  in  Canada,  it  soon  became  evident  to  the 
committee,  that  their  mission  was  to  be  unproductive 
of  results.  The  government  did  not  take  kindly  to 
them,  nor  would  the  Bishop  of  Quebec  and  his  clergy 
trust  the  vague  expressions  of  the  United  Colonies, 
whose  statute  books,  they  pointed  out,  still  bore  the 
most  bitter  and  unchristian  sentiments  against  all 
priests  and  adherents  of  the  ancient  church.  Bigotry 
had  apparently  defeated  their  purpose.  How  it  had 
done  this  was  still  quite  obscure,  until  it  was  discovered 
that  the  British  Government  had  taken  John  Jay's 
address,  translated  it  into  French  and  spread  it  broad- 
cast throughout  Canada.  "Behold  the  spirit  of  the 


68  THE  LOYALIST 

Colonists,"  it  went  on  to  remind  the  people,  "and  if 
you  join  forces  with  them,  they  will  turn  on  you  and 
extirpate  your  religion,  in  the  same  manner  as  they  did 
in  the  Catholic  colony  of  Maryland." 

The  effect  is  historical.  The  commissioners  were 
compelled  to  return;  the  brave  Montgomery  was 
killed  before  the  walls  of  the  city;  Canada  was  lost  to 
the  Colonies  and  forever  forfeited  as  an  integral  part 
of  the  United  States;  all  of  which  was  due  to  the  nar- 
rowness and  intolerance  of  those  who  in  the  supreme 
hour  could  not  refrain  from  the  fanaticism  of  bigotry. 

It  must  be  said,  however,  out  of  justice  to  the  colo- 
nists that  they  did  not  persist  in  their  spirit  of  antago- 
nism towards  the  Catholics.  The  commencement  of 
the  struggle  against  the  common  foe,  together  with 
the  sympathetic  and  magnanimous  concurrence  of  the 
Catholics  with  the  patriots  in  all  things,  soon  changed 
their  prejudice  in  favor  of  a  more  united  and  vigorous 
effort  in  behalf  of  their  joint  claims.  The  despised 
Papists  now  became  ardent  and  impetuous  patriots. 
The  leaders  in  the  great  struggle  soon  began  to  reflect 
an  added  luster  to  the  nation  that  gave  them  birth  and 
to  the  Church  which  taught  them  devotion  to  their 
land.  The  rank  and  file  began  to  swarm  with  men  of 
the  Catholic  faith,  so  many,  indeed,  that  their  great 
Archbishop,  John  Carroll,  could  write  of  them  that 
"their  blood  flowed  as  freely  (in  proportion  to  their 
numbers)  to  cement  the  fabric  of  independence,  as  that 
of  any  of  their  fellow  citizens.  They  concurred  with 
perhaps  greater  unanimity  than  any  other  body  of  men 
in  recommending  and  promoting  that  government  from 
whose  influence  America  anticipates  all  the  blessings  of 
justice,  peace,  plenty,  good  order,  and  civil  and  re- 
ligious liberty." 


THE  LOYALIST  69 

Only  among  the  few  was  the  spirit  of  intolerance 
still  rampant,  and  among  these  might  be  numbered 
Colonel  Forrest. 


Ill 

"See  now  who's  t'  blame,  don't  ye?  The  likes  o'  ye 
an'  that  poltroon,  Jay,  up  there  in  New  York.  See 
who  started  this  affair,  don't  ye?" 

"That's  what  you  say.  Egad,  I  could  say  all  that 
an'  save  half  the  breath.  I've  got  my  'pinion,  though, 
and  that'll  do  fur  me." 

"Ye're  so  narrow,  Forrest,  ye've  only  one  side." 

"Is  that  so?    Well,  so  is  the  Governor." 

"Is  that  his  opinion,  too?"  impatiently  asked  Mr. 
Allison. 

"What?" 

"Does  he  view  matters  in  that  light?" 

"Did  I  say  he  did." 

"Yes." 

There  was  no  further  response. 

Stephen  had,  by  this  time,  become  thoroughly  exas- 
perated with  this  man,  and  was  about  to  eject  him 
forcibly  from  the  room.  His  better  judgment,  how- 
ever, bade  him  restrain  himself.  A  tilt  in  a  public 
drinking  house  would  only  noise  his  name  abroad  and 
perhaps  give  rise  to  much  unpleasantness. 

"How  can  a  man  consistently  be  subject  to  any  civil 
ruler  when  he  already  has  pledged  his  allegiance,  both 
in  soul  and  in  body,  to  another  potentate?" 

This  from  the  man  in  black,  the  fourth  member  of 
the  party,  who  heretofore  had  maintained  an  impartial 
and  respectful  silence,  not  so  much  from  choice  per- 


70  THE  LOYALIST 

haps  as  through  necessity.  His  name  proved  to  be 
John  Anderson. 

"You  mean  an  alien?"  Stephen  inquired. 

"If  you  are  pleased  so  to  term  it.  The  Pope  is  a 
temporal  lord,  you  understand,  and  as  such  is  due 
allegiance  from  every  one  of  his  subjects." 

And  then  Stephen  took  pains  to  explain,  clearly  and 
concisely,  the  great  difference  between  the  two  au- 
thorities— the  civil  and  the  religious.  The  Prince  of 
Peace  had  said,  "Render  unto  Csesar  the  things  that 
are  Caesar's,  and  to  God  the  things  that  are  God's," 
which  declaration  admitted  of  an  interpretation  at 
once  comprehensive  and  exclusive.  He  explained  how 
the  Catholic  found  himself  a  member  of  two  distinct 
and  perfect  societies,  each  independent  and  absolute 
within  its  own  sphere,  the  one  deriving  its  charter  from 
the  natural  law,  the  other  directly  from  God.  He 
then  pointed  out  how  these  societies  lived  in  perfect 
harmony,  although  armed  with  two  swords,  the  one 
spiritual,  the  other  temporal,  weapons  which  were 
intended  never  to  clash  but  to  fight  side  by  side  for 
the  promotion  of  man's  happiness,  temporal  and 
eternal. 

"But  it  is  inconceivable  how  a  clash  can  be  avoided," 
Mr.  Anderson  reminded  him. 

"Not  when  it  is  remembered  that  each  authority  is 
independent  of  the  other.  The  Church  has  no  power 
over  civil  legislation  in  matters  purely  secular,  nor  has 
the  state  a  right  to  interfere  in  ecclesiastical  legisla- 
tion, in  matters  purely  spiritual,  nor  over  spiritual  per- 
sons considered  strictly  as  such.  In  every  Catholic 
country  the  King,  as  well  as  the  humblest  peasant,  is 
subject  to  the  laws  of  his  country  in  secular  matters, 
and  to  the  laws  of  his  church  in  matters  spiritual." 


THE  LOYALIST  71 

"Yet  at  the  same  time  he  cannot  fail  to  recognize 
that  the  one  is  superior  to  the  other." 

"Only  in  so  far  as  the  spiritual  order  is  superior  to 
the  secular." 

"Not  in  temporal  affairs  as  well?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  Only  in  the  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  the  salvation  of  the  soul  is  of  more  impor- 
tance than  the  welfare  of  the  body.  In  this  is  the 
mission  of  the  state  considered  inferior  to  that  of  the 
Church." 

"If  this  be  true,  how  can  a  Catholic  pay  allegiance 
to  a  society  which  he  believes  to  be  a  subordinate  one?" 

"He  does  not  consider  it  subordinate.  It  is  supreme 
within  its  own  sphere.  Theoretically  it  is  subordinate 
in  this:  that  the  care  of  the  soul  comes  first;  then  that 
of  the  body.  The  state  is  the  greatest  institution  in 
matters  secular,  and  in  this  respect  superior  to  the 
Church.  The  Church  makes  no  pretense  of  infalli- 
bility in  statesmanship.  Hence,  a  Catholic  who  is  true 
to  his  Church  and  her  teachings  makes  the  best  citizen." 

"Why?" 

"Because,  to  him,  patriotism  is  inculcated  by  re- 
ligion. Throughout  his  whole  life  his  soul  has  been 
nurtured  by  his  Church  on  a  twofold  pabulum, — love 
of  God  and  love  of  country." 

"The  Catholic  Church  expressly  teaches  that?  I 
thought " 

"Exactly,"  agreed  Stephen,  interrupting  him.  "The 
Catholic  has  been  taught  that  the  civil  authority,  to 
which  he  owes  and  pays  allegiance,  is  something  divine; 
for  him  it  is  the  authority  of  God  vested  in  His  crea- 
tures and  he  gives  ear  to  its  voice  and  yields  to  it  a 
sweet  and  humble  submission  as  befits  a  child  of  God, 


72  THE  LOYALIST 

doing  His  Will  in  all  things.  For  he  recognizes  therein 
the  sound  of  the  Divine  Voice." 

"I  see." 

"He  remembers  the  teaching  of  his  Church,  derived 
from  the  words  of  St.  Paul  writing  on  this  subject  to 
the  citizens  of  Rome,  'Let  every  man  be  subject  to 
higher  powers,  for  there  is  no  power  but  from  God; 
and  those  that  are,  are  ordained  of  God,'  and  the 
letter  of  St.  Peter,  the  first  Pope,  'Be  ye  subject,  there- 
fore, to  every  human  creature  for  God's  sake;  whether 
it  be  to  the  king  as  excelling;  or  to  governors  as  sent 
by  him — for  so  is  the  will  of  God.'  ' 

"You  must  have  been  reading  the  Bible,"  interrupted 
Mr.  Allison  with  a  smile. 

"I  have,"  answered  Stephen,  as  he  continued  with 
little  or  no  attention  to  the  interruption. 

"The  Catholic  obeys  the  voice  of  his  rightly  con- 
stituted authority  because  he  feels  that  he  is  obeying 
the  voice  of  his  God,  and  when  he  yields  obedience  to 
the  law  of  his  land,  he  feels  that  he  is  yielding  obe- 
dience to  God  Himself.  His  ruler  is  the  mouthpiece 
of  God;  the  Constitution  of  his  state  a  most  sacred 
thing  because  it  is  the  embodiment  of  the  authority  of 
God  and  he  would  rather  die  than  commit  any  un- 
toward or  unlawful  deed  which  might  undermine  or 
destroy  it,  precisely  because  it  is  from  God." 

There  was  no  response.  Al1  had  listened  with  atten- 
tion to  Stephen  as  he  emphasized  point  after  point. 
All,  save  Colonel  Forrest,  who  wore  a  sardonic  smile 
throughout  it  all. 

"You  should  Ve  talked  like  that  on  Guy  Fawkes' 
Day,"  he  muttered,  "if  you  wanted  t'  hev  some  fun. 
We'd  hev  some  hot  tar  fur  you." 

"Thank  God!"  replied  Stephen.    "We  shall  witness 


THE  LOYALIST  73 

no  more  such  outbreaks  of  fanaticism.  They  have  long 
enough  disgraced  our  country.  They  are,  I  trust,  for- 
ever ended." 

"The  Pope  Day  Celebration  ended?"  asked  Ander- 
son in  surprise. 

"I  hope  so.  Since  General  Washington  issued  the 
order  soon  after  taking  command  of  the  army,  abolish- 
ing the  celebration,  the  practice  has  never  been  re- 
sumed." 

"Wash'ton  thinks  he  owns  th'  country,"  mumbled 
Forrest  in  a  half  articulate  manner.  "Likes  th' 
Papists,  he  does.  No  more  Pope  Day!  Cath'lic 
gen'rals !  French  al-lies !  P'rhaps  '11  send  fur  th'  Pope 
next.  Give  'm  'is  house,  p'rhaps.  Give  'im  th'  whole 
coun'ry.  No  damn  good  to  us,  he  ain't.  No  damn 
good " 

The  next  moment  Stephen  was  upon  him  with  his 
hands  about  his  throat,  his  face  flaming  with  rage  and 
passion. 

"You  hound !  No  more  of  that ;  or  your  treason  will 
end  forever." 

He  shook  his  head  violently,  tightening  his  fingers 
about  his  throat.  As  he  did,  Forrest  writhing  in  the 
chair  under  his  attack,  began  to  fumble  with  his  hand 
at  his  hip  as  if  instinctively  seeking  something  there. 
Stephen's  eyes  followed  the  movement,  even  while  he, 
too,  relaxed  his  hold  to  seize  with  his  free  hand  the 
arm  of  his  adversary.  Only  for  a  moment,  however; 
for  he  immediately  felt  himself  seized  from  behind  by 
the  shoulders  and  dragged  backwards  from  his  man 
and  completely  overpowered. 

The  man  who  was  known  as  Anderson  took  charge 
of  the  Colonel,  helping  him  to  his  feet,  and  without 


74  THE  LOYALIST 

further  words  led  him  to  one  side  of  the  room,  talking 
softly  but  deliberately  to  him  as  he  did  so. 

A  moment  later  they  had  passed  through  the  door 
and  vanished  down  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the 
Square. 


The  morrow  was  one  of  those  rare  days  when  all 
nature  seems  to  invite  one  to  go  forth  and  enjoy  the 
good  things  within  her  keeping.  The  sunrise  was  men- 
acing; unless  the  wind  shifted  before  noon  it  would  be 
uncomfortably  warm.  Still,  the  air  was  bracing  and 
fragrant  with  the  soft  perfume  distilled  by  the  pines. 

Stephen  felt  in  tune  with  nature  as  he  made  his  early 
morning  toilet.  He  gazed  the  while  into  the  garden 
from  his  widely  opened  window,  and  responded  in- 
stinctively to  the  call  of  the  countryside.  The  disagree- 
able episode  of  the  preceding  day  had  left  unpleasant 
recollections  in  his  mind  which  disconcerted  him  not  a 
little  during  his  waking  hours,  the  time  when  the 
stream  of  consciousness  begins  to  flow  with  an  unre- 
strained rapidity,  starting  with  the  more  impressive 
memories  of  the  night  before.  He  did  not  repent  his 
action;  he  might  have  repeated  the  performance  under 
similar  circumstances,  yet  he  chided  himself  for  his 
lack  of  reserve  and  composure  and  his  great  want  of 
respect  to  a  superior  officer. 

He  was  early  mounted  and  on  his  way,  striking  off 
in  the  direction  of  the  Germantown  Road.  He  had 
left  word  with  his  landlady  of  his  intended  destination, 
with  the  added  remark  that  he  would  be  back  in  a  short 
time,  a  couple  of  hours  at  the  most,  and  that  he  would 
attend  to  the  business  of  the  day  upon  his  return. 

75 


76  THE  LOYALIST 

What  that  might  amount  to  he  had  no  idea  at  all, 
being  preoccupied  entirely  with  what  he  had  to  do  in 
the  immediate  present,  for  he  made  it  a  point  never  to 
permit  the  more  serious  affairs  of  life  to  intrude  upon 
his  moments  of  relaxation. 

He  was  a  pleasant  figure  to  look  upon;  smooth- 
faced and  athletic,  well  mounted  and  dressed  with 
great  preciseness.  On  his  well  shaped  hands  he  wore 
leathern  gauntlets;  he  was  in  his  uniform  of  buff  and 
blue;  beneath  his  coat  he  had  his  steel-buckled  belt  with 
his  holster  and  pistol  in  it;  he  wore  his  cocked  hat  with 
a  buff  cockade  affixed,  the  insignia  of  his  rank  in  the 
service. 

The  road  lay  in  the  direction  of  Marjorie's  house. 
Perhaps  he  chose  to  ride  along  this  way  in  order  that 
he  might  be  obliged  to  pass  her  door,  and  then  again, 
perhaps,  that  was  but  of  secondary  import.  This  was 
no  time  for  analysis,  and  so  he  refused  to  study  his 
motives.  He  did  know  that  he  had  not  seen  her  for  a 
long  time,  the  longest  time  it  seemed,  and  that  he  had 
had  no  word  from  her  since  their  last  meeting,  save 
the  intelligence  received  from  her  father  yesterday  in 
response  to  his  repeated  inquiries  concerning  her  wel- 
fare and  that  of  her  mother. 

"Let  us  turn  up  here,  Dolly,  old  girl."  He  leaned 
forward  a  little  to  pat  the  mare's  neck  affectionately 
as  he  spoke ;  while  at  the  same  time  he  pulled  the  right 
rein  slightly,  turning  her  head  in  the  direction  indicated. 
"And,  if  we  are  fortunate,  we  shall  catch  a  glimpse  of 
her." 

Dolly  raised  her  ears  very  erect  and  opened  full  her 
nostrils  as  if  to  catch  some  possible  scent  of  her,  of 
whom  he  spoke.  She  pierced  the  distance  with  her 
eyes,  but  saw  no  one  and  so  settled  herself  into  an 


THE  LOYALIST  77 

easy  canter,  for  she  knew  it  to  be  more  to  her  rider's 
advantage  to  proceed  at  a  slowing  pace  until  they  had 
passed  the  house  in  question. 

"You  are  an  intelligent  old  girl,  Dolly,  but  I  must 
not  let  you  too  far  into  the  secrets  of  my  mind.  Still, 
you  have  shared  my  delights  and  woes  alike  and  have 
been  my  one  faithful  friend.  W|hy  should  I  not  tell 
you?" 

And  yet  they  had  been  friends  for  no  great  length 
of  time.  It  was  at  Valley  Forge  they  had  met,  shortly 
after  Stephen's  appointment  to  General  Washington's 
staff.  As  an  aide  he  was  required  to  be  mounted  and 
it  was  by  a  piece  of  good  fortune  that  he  had  been 
allowed  to  choose  from  several  the  chestnut  mare  that 
now  bore  him.  He  had  given  her  the  best  of  care  and 
affection  and  she  reciprocated  in  as  intelligent  a  manner 
as  she  knew  how. 

"You  have  served  well,  but  I  feel  that  there  is  much 
greater  work  before  us,  much  greater  than  our  quest 
of  the  present." 

They  were  nearing  the  house.  For  some  reason  or 
other,  Dolly  whinnied  as  he  spoke,  probably  in  acquies- 
cence to  his  thought,  probably  in  recognition  of  the 
presence  of  her  rival.  She  might  have  seen,  had  she 
cared  to  turn  her  head,  a  trim,  lithe  form  passing  to 
the  rear  of  the  house.  Stephen  took  pains  to  see  her, 
however,  and,  as  she  turned  her  head,  doffed  his  hat 
in  salute.  The  next  moment  Dolly  felt  the  reins 
tighten,  and,  whether  she  desired  it  or  not,  found  her 
head  turned  in  that  direction.  Her  rider  was  soon  dis- 
mounted and  was  leading  her  to  the  side  of  the  road. 

"You  are  early  astir,  Mistress  Marjorie.  I  had 
anticipated  no  such  pleasure  this  morning." 

"It  is  indeed  mutual,"  replied  Marjorie,  smiling  as 


78  THE  LOYALIST 

she  offered  him  her  hand.  "How  came  you  so  early? 
No  new  turn  of  events,  I  hope!" 

"Not  in  the  least.  I  desired  a  few  hours  in  the 
saddle  before  the  heat  of  the  day  set  in,  and  my 
guardian  angel  must  have  directed  me  along  this  path." 

Dolly  raised  both  her  ears  and  turned  towards  him, 
while  she  noisily  brought  her  hoof  down  upon  the  sod. 

"What  a  rascal !"  she  thought  to  herself. 

The  girl  dropped  her  eyes  demurely  and  then  asked 
hurriedly: 

"There  are  no  new  developments?" 

"None  that  I  know  of." 

"Nothing  came  of  the  trouble  at  the  Inn?" 

"Then  you  know?" 

"All.    Father  told  me." 

"He  should  not  have  told  you." 

"It  was  my  doing.  I  gave  him  no  peace  until  I  had 
learned  all." 

Dolly  grew  weary  of  this  pleasantry  and  wandered 
away  to  gladden  her  lips  on  the  choice  morsels  of  the 
tender  grass. 

"I  deeply  regret  my  indiscretion,  though  it  was  for 
his  sake." 

"You  mean ?" 

"His  Excellency." 

"I  might  have  done  likewise,  were  I  able.  Colonel 
Forrest  is  most  disagreeable." 

"He  was  not  wholly  culpable  and  so  I  forgave  his 
insulting  remarks  against  us,  but  I  forgot  myself  en- 
tirely when  General  Washington's  name  was  be- 
smirched." 

"I  fear  further  trouble,"  she  sighed. 

"From  him?" 

She  nodded  her  head. 


THE  LOYALIST  79 

"Nonsense!  There  will  be  naught  said  about  the 
whole  affair  and  it  will  end  where  it  began.  Forrest 
is  no  fool." 

"I  have  other  news  for  you,  Captain,"  announced 
Marjorie,  her  eyes  beaming  at  the  prospect. 

"And  how  long  have  you  been  preserving  it  for  me  ?" 
asked  Stephen. 

"But  a  few  days." 

"And  you  made  no  attempt  to  see  me?" 

"Had  I  not  met  you  now,  I  would  have  done  so  this 
day,"  answered  Marjorie. 

"You  would  have  written?" 

"Perhaps." 

"It  is  my  forfeiture  to  your  reserve." 

"And  made  gallantly." 

"Come  now!    What  had  you  to  tell?" 

"This.  Peggy  desires  the  honor  of  your  company. 
You  will  receive  the  invitation  in  a  day  or  two.  Just 
an  informal  affair,  yet  I  sensed  the  possibility  of  your 
pleasure." 

"You  did  right.  I  am  pleased  as  I  am  honored,  but 
neither  so  much  as  I  am  elated  at  the  hopes  for  the 
future.  Of  course,  I  shall  accept,  but  you  will  have  to 
promise  to  denote  my  path  for  me  in  the  tangled  maze 
of  society,  in  whose  company  I  am  as  yet  merely  a 
novice." 

"Lud!    I  ne'er  heard  one  so  illiberal  of  his  graces." 

"Nor  one  more  candid,"  Stephen  rejoined  as  quickly. 
If  he  were  good  at  repartee  he  had  met  with  one  who 
was  equally  as  apt. 

"You  know  the  Governor  will  be  in  attendance,"  she 
declared  in  a  matter-of-fact  manner. 

"How  should  I  know  that?  Is  it  unusual  for  him 
to  frequent  the  company  of  the  gay?" 


8o  THE  LOYALIST 

"Not  of  late,  the  more  especially  where  the  pres- 
ence of  Peggy  is  concerned,"  added  the  little  tale- 
bearer with  a  keen  though  reckless  wit. 

"And  why  Peggy?"  He  was  innocent  enough  in  his 
question. 

"Have  you  not  heard  of  His  Excellency's  courting? 
Mr.  Shippen  has  already  made  public  the  rumor  that 
a  certain  great  General  is  laying  close  siege  to  the 
heart  of  Peggy.  And  I  have  Peggy's  own  word 
for  it." 

"To  Peggy?"  He  asked  with  evident  surprise. 
"Why,  she  but  halves  his  age,  and  he  is  already  a 
widower." 

"With  three  sons,"  Marjorie  gayly  added.  "No 
matter.  Peggy  will  meet  the  disparity  of  ages  by  the 
disparity  of  stations.  She  has  avowed  to  me  that  no 
one  dares  to  question  the  social  preeminence  of  the 
Military  Governor,  nor  the  fact  that  he  is  the  most 
dashing  and  perhaps  most  successful  general  of  the 
Continental  Army.  Position  in  life  is  of  prime  impor- 
tance to  her." 

"Is  that  so?  I  had  not  so  judged  her,"  was  the  com- 
ment. 

"She  admits  that  herself,  and  makes  no  secret  of  it 
before  any  one.  Did  you  not  observe  her  sullen  silence 
at  the  Ball  upon  learning  of  the  identity  of  her  inferior 
partner?  And  that  she  sat  out  the  major  portion  of 
the  dance  in  company  with  the  Military  Governor?" 

"It  escaped  my  attention,  for  I  was  too  deeply  con- 
cerned with  another  matter  which  distracted  me  for 
the  entire  evening,"  he  answered  with  a  smile. 

She  pretended  to  take  no  notice,  however,  and  con- 
tinued. 

"Well,  he  has  been  calling  regularly  since  that  eve- 


THE  LOYALIST  81 

ning,  and  this  quiet  and  informal  function  has  been 
arranged  primarily  in  his  honor,  although  it  will  not 
be  announced  as  such.  You  will  go?"  she  asked. 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  accept  her  invitation.  May 
I  accompany  you?" 

"Thank  you.  I  almost  hoped  you  would  say  that. 
Men  folks  are  so  sadly  wanting  in  intuition." 

"Friday,  then?  Adieu!  The  pleasure  that  awaits 
me  is  immeasurable." 

"Until  Friday." 

She  extended  to  him  her  hand,  which  he  pressed.  A 
moment  later  he  was  mounted. 

"My  kindest  to  your  mother.  She  will  understand." 
Dolly  broke  into  a  gallop. 

II 

Marjorie  stood  at  the  gate  post  until  he  was  quite 
lost  from  view  around  the  turn  of  the  road.  He  did 
not  look  back,  yet  she  thought  that  he  might  have. 
She  slowly  turned  and  as  slowly  began  to  walk  towards 
the  house,  there  to  resume  the  duties  which  had  suf« 
fered  a  pleasant  interruption. 

Meanwhile,  she  tried  to  analyze  this  young  man. 
He  was  rather  deep,  of  few  words  on  any  given  sub- 
ject, but  wholly  non-communicative  as  regards  himself. 
He  perhaps  was  possessed  of  more  intuition  than  his 
manner  would  reveal,  although  he  gave  every  appear- 
ance of  arriving  at  his  conclusions  by  the  sheer  force 
of  logic.  His  words  and  deeds  never  betrayed  his 
whole  mind,  of  that  she  was  certain,  yet  he  could  assert 
himself  rather  forcibly  when  put  to  the  test,  as  in  the 
painful  incident  at  the  Coffee  House.  He  would  never 
suffer  from  soul-paralysis,  thought  she,  for  want  of 


82  THE  LOYALIST 

decision  or  resolution,  for  both  were  written  full  upon 
him. 

That  she  was  strangely  attracted  to  him  she  knew 
very  well,  but  why  and  how  she  was  unable  to  discover. 
This  was  but  their  third  meeting,  yet  she  felt  as  if  she 
had  known  him  all  her  life,  so  frank,  so  unreserved, 
so  open,  so  secure  did  she  feel  in  his  presence.  It 
seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  her  to 
have  waved  her  hand  in  salute  to  him  that  morning  as 
he  passed;  she  did  it  with  the  same  unconcern  as  if  she 
had  known  him  all  her  life.  She  felt  it  within  her, 
that  was  all,  and  could  give  no  other  possible  inter- 
pretation to  her  action. 

There  was  something  prepossessing  about  him.  Per- 
haps it  was  his  faculty  for  doing  the  unexpected.  Most 
women  desire  to  meet  a  man  who  is  possessed  of  a  dis- 
tinctive individuality,  who  lends  continual  interest  to 
them  by  his  departure  from  the  trite  and  commonplace. 
What  Stephen  might  say  or  do  was  an  entirely  un- 
known quantity  until  it  had  actually  taken  place,  and 
this  attracted  her  on  the  instant,  whether  she  was  con- 
scious of  it  or  not.  His  manner,  too,  was  affable,  and 
gave  him  an  air  at  once  pleasing  and  good-natured. 
He  never  flattered,  yet  said  most  agreeable  things, 
putting  one  perfectly  at  ease  and  inspiring  sympathy 
and  courage.  He  bore  himself  well;  erect,  manly, 
dignified,  without  ostentation  or  display.  His  serious- 
ness, his  evenness,  his  gravity,  his  constancy  and  his 
decision  stamped  him  with  a  certain  authority,  a  man 
of  marked  personality  and  character. 

So  she  mused  as  she  entered  the  door,  her  thoughts 
in  a  lofty  hegira  to  the  far  off  land  of  make  believe — 
her  better  self  striving  to  marshal  them  to  the  cold 
realities  of  duty  that  lay  before  her.  She  had  been 


THE  LOYALIST  83 

cleaning  the  little  addition  at  the  rear  of  the  dwelling 
proper,  used  as  a  kitchen,  and  her  work  took  her  into 
the  yard.  Dolly's  whinny  had  caused  her  to  turn  her 
head,  and  the  next  moment  cares  and  responsibilities 
and  all  else  were  forgotten.  Now  she  wondered  what 
she  had  been  about!  Seizing  a  cloth  she  began  to  dust 
industriously.  The  crash  of  one  of  the  dishes  on  the 
kitchen  floor  brought  her  to  her  senses.  Her  mother 
heard  the  noise  from  the  adjoining  room. 

"What  ails  thee,  child?    Hast  thou  lost  thy  reason?" 

"I  believe  so,  mommy.  I  must  have  been  thinking 
of  other  things."  And  she  stooped  to  gather  the  frag- 
ments. 

"Was  it  Captain  Meagher?  I  saw  you  two  at  the 
gate." 

A  guilty  smile  stole  over  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"He  was  passing  while  I  was  in  the  yard,  and  he 
stopped  only  to  wish  me  the  greetings  of  the  day.  I 
was  right  glad  that  he  did,  for  I  had  an  opportunity 
of  extending  to  him  the  invitation  from  Peggy." 

"He  will  go,  I  suppose?"  she  queried,  knowing  well 
what  the  answer  might  be.  She  did  not  spare  the  time 
to  stop  for  conversation,  but  continued  with  her  duties. 

"He  is  quite  pleased.  And,  mommy,  he  will  call  for 
me." 

"Be  careful,  now,  to  break  no  more  dishes." 

"Ludl  I  have  not  lost  my  head  yet.  That  was 
purely  an  accident  which  will  not  happen  again." 

"That  poor  unfortunate  Spangler  made  a  better 
defense." 

"He  deserved  what  he  got.  So  did  Lieutenant 
Lyons  and  the  other  officers  of  the  Ranger  who  de- 
serted to  the  enemy.  But  my  sympathies  go  out  to 
the  old  man  who  kept  the  gates  under  the  city.  These 


84  THE  LOYALIST 

court-martials  are  becoming  too  common  and  I  don't 
like  them." 

"That  is  the  horrible  side  of  war,  my  dear.  And 
until  our  people  learn  the  value  of  patriotism,  the  need 
of  abolishing  all  foreign  ties  and  strongly  adhering  to 
the  land  that  has  offered  them  a  home  and  a  living, 
the  necessity  of  these  dreadful  measures  will  never 


cease." 


"A  little  power  is  a  dangerous  weapon  to  thrust  into 
a  man's  hand,  unless  he  be  great  enough  to  wield  it." 

"Now  you  are  going  to  say  that  General  Arnold  is 
to  blame  for  these  tragedies." 

"No,  I  am  not.  But  I  do  think  that  a  great  deal 
more  of  clemency  could  be  exercised.  Many  of  those 
poor  tradesmen  who  were  convicted  and  sentenced  to 
be  hanged  could  have  been  pardoned  with  equal 
security." 

"That  is  the  law,  my  dear,  and  the  law  is  God's  will. 
Leave  all  to  Him." 

Mrs.  Allison  was  one  of  those  good  souls  who  saw 
no  harm  in  the  vilest  of  creatures;  faults  were  hidden 
by  her  veil  of  sympathy.  When  distressing  reverses 
or  abject  despair  visited  any  one,  Mrs.  Allison's  affa- 
bility and  indescribable  tenderness  smoothed  over  the 
troubled  situation  and  brought  forth  a  gleam  of  glad- 
ness. Quiet,  kindly,  magnanimous,  tolerant,  she  could 
touch  hearts  to  the  depths  in  a  manner  both  winning 
and  lasting.  Whether  the  fault  entailed  a  punishment 
undeserved  or  inevitable,  her  feeling  of  pity  was  ex- 
cited. She  always  sympathized  without  accusing  or 
probing  the  source  of  the  evil.  She  stretched  forth  a 
helping  hand  merely  to  aid.  No  nature,  however  hard, 


THE  LOYALIST  85 

could  be  impervious  to  the  sympathy  and  the  sweetness 
of  her  affectionate  disposition. 

Motherly  was  the  quality  written  full  upon  Mrs. 
Allison's  face.  Her  thoughts,  her  schemes,  her  pur- 
poses, her  ambitions  of  life,  were  all  colored  by  this 
maternal  attribute.  In  her  daily  homage  and  obeisance 
to  God,  Whom  she  worshiped  with  the  most  childlike 
faith  and  simplicity;  in  the  execution  of  the  manifold 
duties  of  her  home,  Marjorie  was  to  her  ever  a  treas- 
ure of  great  price.  She  was  sustained  in  her  aims  and 
purposes  by  an  enduring  power  of  will, — a  power 
clothed  with  the  soft,  warm,  living  flesh  of  a  kindly 
heart. 

Her  marriage  with  Matthew  Allison  had  been 
happy,  a  happiness  intensified  and  concretely  embodied 
in  Marjorie,  the  only  child  vouchsafed  to  them  by  the 
Creator.  How  often,  at  the  time  when  the  deepening 
shadows  moved  their  way  across  the  dimming  land- 
scape, announcing  to  the  work  worn  world  the  close  of 
another  day,  would  she  sit  for  a  brief  while  in  silence 
and  take  complacence  in  the  object  of  her  hopes  and 
aspirations!  It  was  Marjorie  for  whom  she  lived  and 
toiled  and  purposed.  And  it  was  Marjorie  who  em- 
bodied the  sum-total  of  her  fancies  and  ambitions  and 
aspirations,  and  translated  them  into  definite  forms 
and  realities. 

Ill 

A  beautiful  landscape  unrolled  itself  before  Stephen 
as  he  leisurely  rode  along  the  Germantown  road.  The 
midsummer  sun  was  now  high  in  the  heavens,  with  just 
a  little  stir  in  the  air  to  temper  its  warmth  and  oppres- 
siveness. Fragments  of  clouds,  which  seemed  to  have 


86  THE  LOYALIST 

torn  themselves  loose  from  some  great  heap  massed 
beyond  the  ridge  of  low  hills  to  the  westward,  drifted 
lazily  across  the  waste  of  blue  sky,  wholly  unconcerned 
as  to  their  ultimate  lot  or  destination.  Breaths  of 
sweet  odor,  from  freshly  cut  hay  or  the  hidden  foliage 
bounding  the  road,  were  wafted  along  in  the  embraces 
of  the  gentle  breeze.  Away  to  the  left  and  before 
him,  as  his  horse  cantered  along,  swelled  the  country- 
side in  gentle  undulations  of  green  and  brown,  dis- 
figured now  and  again  by  irregular  patches  of  field  and 
orchard  yielding  to  cultivation ;  while  to  the  side  a  stone 
wall  humped  itself  along  the  winding  road  into  the  dis- 
tance,, its  uniformity  of  contour  broken  here  and  there 
by  a  trellis  work  of  yellow  jasmine  or  crimson  rambler, 
alternately  reflecting  lights  and  shadows  from  the  pass- 
ing clouds  and  sunshine.  It  was  a  day  when  all  nature 
was  in  perfect  tune,  its  harmony  sweetly  blending  with 
the  notes  of  gladness  that  throbbed  in  Stephen's  heart. 
Yet  he  was  scarce  aware  of  it  all,  so  completely  ab- 
sorbed was  he  in  the  confusion  of  his  own  thought. 

Stephen  had  a  very  clear  idea  of  what  he  was  to  do 
in  the  immediate  present,  but  he  had  no  idea  at  all  of 
what  was  to  be  done  in  the  immediate  future.  First 
of  all  he  would  attend  Mistress  Marjorie  at  this  in- 
formal affair,  where,  perhaps,  he  might  learn  more 
about  the  Military  Governor.  He  half  surmised  that 
His  Excellency  was  not  kindly  disposed  towards  Cath- 
olics in  general,  although  he  could  not  remember  any 
concrete  case  in  particular  to  substantiate  his  claim. 
Still  he  knew  that  he  was  avowedly  opposed  to  the 
French  Alliance,  as  were  many  illustrious  citizens;  and 
he  presumed  his  feelings  were  due  in  part  at  least  to 
the  fact  that  France  was  a  recognized  Catholic  coun- 
try. There  was  a  negative  argument,  too:  no  Catholic 


THE  LOYALIST  87 

name  was  ever  found  among  his  appointments.  These 
were  but  surmises,  not  evidence  upon  which  to  base 
even  a  suspicion.  Nevertheless,  they  were  worthy  of 
some  consideration  until  a  conclusion  of  a  more  definite 
nature  was  warranted. 

That  the  Governor  was  becoming  decidedly  more 
unpopular  every  day  and  that  this  unpopularity  was 
quite  consequential,  more  consequential  if  anything 
than  preconceived, — for  it  cannot  be  gainsaid  that 
many  had  frowned  upon  his  appointment  from  the  very 
beginning, — Meagher  knew  very  well.  Unfavorable 
comparisons  already  had  been  drawn  between  the 
gayety  of  life  under  a  free  country  and  that  of  a 
colonial  government.  The  fact  that  Arnold  possessed 
the  finest  stable  of  horses  in  the  city,  and  entertained 
at  the  most  costly  of  dinners,  at  a  time  when  the  man- 
ner of  living  was  extremely  frugal,  not  so  much  from 
choice  as  from  necessity,  and  at  a  time  when  the  value 
of  the  Continental  currency  had  depreciated  to  almost 
nothing,  occasioned  a  host  of  acrid  criticisms  not  only 
in  the  minds  of  the  displeased  populace,  but  also  in  the 
less  friendly  columns  of  the  daily  press. 

Censures  of  the  harshest  nature  were  continually 
uttered  against  the  Governor's  conduct  of  the  affairs 
of  the  city  government  together  with  his  earlier  order 
closing  the  shops.  Now,  the  use  that  he  began  to  make 
of  the  government  wagons  in  moving  the  stores  excited 
further  complaints  of  a  more  public  nature,  the  more 
so  that  no  particular  distinction  was  being  made  as  to 
whether  the  stores  belonged  to  the  Whigs  or  the  of- 
fending Tories.  It  was  no  idle  gossip  that  he  curried 
favor  with  the  upper  Tory  class  of  the  city,  now  par- 
ticular mention  was  made  of  his  infatuation  with  the 
daughter  of  Edward  Shippen.  It  was  whispered,  too, 


88  THE  LOYALIST 

that  the  misuse  of  his  authority  in  the  grant  of  safe 
passes  to  and  from  New  York  had  led  to  the  present 
act  of  the  Congress  in  recalling  all  passes.  Stephen 
knew  all  this  and  he  logically  surmised  more;  so  he 
longed  for  the  opportunity  to  study  intimately  this  man 
now  occupying  the  highest  military  post  in  the  city 
and  the  state. 

For  the  present  he  would  return  home  and  bide  his 
time  until  Friday  evening  when  he  would  have  the  hap- 
piness of  escorting  Marjorie  to  the  home  of  Peggy 
Shippen. 

"I  wonder,  Dolly,  old  girl,  if  I  can  make  myself  bold 
enough  to  call  her  'Marjorie.'  'Marjorie,'  'Mar- 
garet,' "  he  repeated  them  over  to  himself.  "I  don't 
know  which  is  the  prettier.  She  would  be  a  pearl 
among  women,  and  she  is,  isn't  she,  Dolly?" 

He  would  ask  her  at  any  rate.  He  would  be  her 
partner  for  the  evening,  would  dance  with  her,  and 
would  sit  by  her  side.  Peggy  would  be  there,  too,  and 
the  General.  He  would  observe  them  closely,  and 
perchance,  converse  with  them.  Colonel  Forrest  and 
the  General's  active  aide-de-camp,  Major  Franks,  a 
Philadelphian,  and  a  Jew  would  also  be  present.  Alto- 
gether the  evening  promised  to  be  interesting  as  well 
as  happy. 

He  was  musing  in  this  manner  when  he  heard  the 
hoof  beats  of  a  horse,  heavily  ridden,  gaining  upon  him 
in  the  rear.  He  drew  up  and  half  turned  instinctively 
at  the  strange  yet  familiar  sound.  Suddenly  there  hove 
into  view  at  the  bend  of  the  road  an  officer  of  the  Con- 
tinental Army,  in  full  uniform,  booted  and  spurred, 
whose  appearance  caused  him  to  turn  full  about  to 
await  him.  It  was  not  long  before  he  recognized  the 


THE  LOYALIST  89 

familiar  figure  of  the  aide,  Major  Franks,  and  he  lifted 
his  arm  to  salute. 

"Captain  Meagher,  I  have  orders  for  your  arrest." 

"Sir?"  answered  Stephen  in  alarm. 

"On  charges  preferred  by  Colonel  Forrest.  You 
are  to  come  with  me  at  once." 

An  embarrassing  silence  ensued. 

Stephen  then  saluted,  and  handed  over  his  side  arms. 
He  wheeled  his  horse  and  set  off  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated, his  thoughts  in  a  turmoil. 

The  Major  fell  in  at  the  rear. 


CHAPTER  VII 


"For  still  my  mem'ry  lingers  on  the  scenes 
And  pleasures  of  the   days  beyond   recall." 

Peggy's  voice,  timid,  soft  though  pretty,  died  away 
into  an  enraptured  silence  which  seemed  to  endure  for 
the  longest  while  before  the  room  burst  into  a  gener- 
ous measure  of  applause.  She  was  very  well  accom- 
panied on  the  clavichord  by  Miss  Rutteledge  and  on 
the  harp  by  Monsieur  Ottow,  Secretary  to  the  French 
Minister.  The  evening  had  been  delightful;  the  as- 
sembly brilliant  in  quality,  and  unaffectedly  congenial 
and  diverting.  The  music  had  contributed  much  to  the 
pleasures  of  the  function,  for  the  Shippens'  was  one  of 
the  few  homes  in  the  city  where  such  a  resource  was 
at  all  possible. 

"Major!  Major  Franks!  What  do  you  think  of 
my  little  girl?  Do  you  think  'twould  be  well  for  her 
to  cultivate  such  a  voice?" 

Mrs.  Shippen  turned  sideways.  There  was  gratifi- 
cation, genuine,  complacent  gratification,  visible  in 
every  line  of  her  smiling  face. 

"Splendid!  Splendid!  Of  course.  Madame,  she 
sings  very  prettily,"  replied  the  Major,  gathering  him- 
self from  the  state  of  partial  repose  into  which  he  had 
fallen. 

He  sat  up. 

"And  do  you  know,  Major,"  went  on  the  fond 

90 


THE  LOYALIST  91 

mother,  "she  never  had  a  tutor,  except  some  of  our 
dear  friends  who  made  this  their  home  during  the 
winter." 

"You  mean  the  British?" 

"Of  course  they  did  not  make  so  free  with  every- 
body in  the  city,  with  only  a  few,  you  know.  It  was 
for  General  Howe  himself  that  Margaret  first  made 
bold  enough  to  sing." 

"She  does  very  well,  I  am  sure,"  was  the  reply. 

The  little  group  again  lapsed  into  silence  as  Peggy 
responded  with  an  encore,  this  selection  being  a  pa- 
triotic air  of  a  lighter  vein.  The  Major  again  lapsed 
into  an  easy  attitude,  but  Mrs.  Shippen  was  visibly 
intent  upon  every  motion  of  the  singer  and  followed 
her  every  syllable. 

"How  much  does  music  contribute  to  one's  pleas- 
ure!" she  remarked  when  the  conversation  began  to 
stir. 

"It  is  charming,"  Mr.  Anderson  observed. 

"And  do  you  know  that  we  inherited  that  clavi- 
chord? It  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  country." 

"It  appears  to  be  of  rare  design,"  remarked  Mr. 
Anderson,  as  his  eyes  pierced  the  distance  in  a  steady 
observance  of  it. 

"It  belonged  to  Mr.  Shippen's  father,"  she  boasted. 
"This  house,  you  know,  was  the  home  of  Edward 
Shippen,  who  was  Mayor  of  the  city  over  an  hundred 
years  ago.  It  was  then,  if  I  do  say  it,  the  most  pre- 
tentious home  in  the  city.  My  husband  was  for  dis- 
posing of  it  and  removing  to  less  fashionable  quarters, 
but  I  would  not  hear  of  it.  Never!" 

Major  Franks  surveyed  the  great  room  deliberately. 

"  'Twould  make  a  fine  castle!"  he  commented  as  he 
half  turned  and  crossed  one  knee  over  the  other.  He 


92  THE  LOYALIST 

felt  that  this  would  be  his  last  visit  if  he  continued  to 
take  any  less  interest,  yet  even  that  apparently  caused 
him  no  great  concern. 

And  yet,  a  great  house  it  was,  the  quondam  residence 
of  Edward  Shippen,  the  progenitor  of  the  present  fam- 
ily, a  former  Mayor  of  the  city,  who  had  fled  thither 
from  Boston  where  he  had  suffered  persecution  at  the 
hands  of  the  Puritans  who  could  not  allow  him  to  be  a 
Quaker.  It  stood  on  an  eminence  outside  the  city.  It 
was  well  surrounded,  with  its  great  orchard,  its  summer 
house,  its  garden  smiling  with  roses,  and  lilies;  bor- 
dered by  rows  of  yellow  pines  shading  the  rear,  with  a 
spacious  green  lawn  away  to  the  front  affording  an 
unobstructed  view  of  the  city  and  the  Delaware  shore. 
It  was  a  residence  of  pretentious  design  and  at  the 
time  of  its  construction  was  easily  the  most  sumptuous 
home  in  the  city. 

The  Shippens  had  been  the  leaders  of  the  fashion- 
able set,  not  alone  in  days  gone  by,  the  days  of  colonial 
manners  when  diversions  and  enjoyments  were  indulged 
in  as  far  as  the  austerities  of  the  staid  old  Quaker  code 
would  allow;  but  also  during  the  days  of  the  present 
visitation  of  the  British,  when  emulation  in  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  vistors  ran  riot  among  the  townsfolk. 
Small  wonder  that  the  present  lord  of  the  manor  felt 
constrained  to  write  to  his  father  that  he  should  be 
under  the  necessity  of  removing  from  this  luxurious 
abode  to  Lancaster,  "for  the  style  of  living  my  fashion- 
able daughters  have  introduced  into  my  family  and 
their  dress  will  I  fear  before  long  oblige  me  to  change 
the  scene."  Yet  if  the  truth  were  told,  the  style  of 
living  inaugurated  by  the  ambitious  daughters  was  no 
less  a  heritage  than  a  part  of  the  discipline  in  which 
they  had  been  reared. 


THE  LOYALIST  93 

If  the  sudden  and  forced  departure  of  the  dashing 
as  well  as  the  eligible  British  Officers  from  the  city  had 
totally  upset  the  cherished  social  aspirations  of  the 
mother  of  the  Shippen  girls,  the  advent  of  the  gallant 
and  unmarried  Military  Governor  had  lifted  them  to  a 
newer  and  much  higher  plane  of  endeavor.  The 
termination  of  a  matrimonial  alliance  with  the  second 
in  command  of  the  patriotic  forces  not  less  than  the 
foremost  in  rank  of  the  city  gentry,  would  more  than 
compensate  for  the  loss  of  a  possible  British  peerage. 
Theirs  was  a  proud  lineage  to  boast  of  and  a  mode  of 
unfeigned  comfort  and  display.  And  it  took  but  the 
briefest  possible  time  for  the  artful  mother  to  discern 
that  her  clever  and  subtle  devices  were  beginning  to 
meet  with  some  degree  of  success. 

The  present  function  was  wholly  her  affair,  and 
while  it  was  announced  as  a  purely  informal  gathering, 
the  manner  and  the  scheme  of  the  decorations,  the 
elegance  and  the  care  with  which  the  women  dressed, 
the  order,  the  appointments,  the  refreshments,  not  to 
mention  the  distinguished  French  visitors,  would  per- 
mit no  one  to  surmise  that,  even  for  a  moment.  Care 
had  been  taken  to  issue  invitations  to  the  representative 
members  of  the  city's  upper  class,  more  especially  to 
the  newly  arrived  French  Officers  and  their  wives,  as 
well  as  the  commissioned  members  of  the  Continental 
Army.  There  were  the  Shippen  girls,  their  persistent 
friend,  Miss  Chew,  as  well  as  Miss  Franks,  whose 
brother  was  now  attached  to  the  staff  of  General 
Arnold,  and  a  dozen  other  young  ladies,  all  attractive, 
and  dressed  in  the  prevailing  elegance  of  fashion;  the 
hair  in  an  enormous  coiffure,  in  imitation  of  the  fash- 
ions of  the  French,  with  turbans  of  gauze  and  spangles 
and  ropes  of  pearls,  the  low  bodices  with  the  bow  in 


94  THE  LOYALIST 

front,  the  wide  sashes  below.  It  was  an  altogether 
brilliant  assembly,  with  the  Military  Governor  the 
most  brilliant  of  all. 

"Tell  me,  Major,"  asked  Mrs.  Shippen  in  measured 
and  subdued  language  as  she  leaned  forward  in  an 
apparently  confidential  manner,  "does  General  Arnold 
visit  often?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  replied  the  Major  at  once,  "he  is  very 
generous  with  his  company." 

Her  face  fell  somewhat. 

"Now,  isn't  that  strange?  I  was  told  that  he  made 
a  practice  of  calling  at  no  home  outside  of  ours." 

He  uncrossed  his  leg  and  shifted  in  his  chair  rather 
uneasily. 

"Quite  true."  He  saw  at  once  that  he  had  made  an 
unhappy  remark.  "But  of  course  he  makes  no  social 
calls,  none  whatsoever.  You  must  know  that  the  af- 
fairs of  state  require  all  of  his  time,  for  which  duty 
he  is  obliged  to  visit  many  people  on  matters  of  pure 
business." 

"Oh!" 

She  appeared  satisfied  at  this  explanation. 

"It  seems  as  if  we  had  known  him  all  our  lives.  He 
feels  so  perfectly  at  home  with  us." 

"Exactly." 

"You  have  met  him  often  with  us,  haven't  you, 
Marjorie?" 

"I  first  met  him  at  the  Military  Ball  through  Peggy," 
Marjorie  replied  nai'vely. 

"But  you  must  have  met  him  here.  He  has  been 
here  so  often,"  she  insisted. 

"Then  I  vow  our  General  has  felt  the  smite  of  your 
fair  daughter's  charms,"  remarked  Mr.  Anderson. 


THE  LOYALIST  95 

Marjorie  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  timely 
interruption. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  asked  Mrs.  Shippen,  with 
no  attempt  to  conceal  her  impatience. 

"Unquestionably. 

'Smiles    from    reason    flow, 
To  brute  denied,  and  are  of  love  the  food.' 

So  sang  the  bard,  and  so  sing  I  of  His  Excellency." 

"But  his  age !  He  cannot  now  be  thinking  of  matri- 
mony." 

"Age,  my  dear  Mrs.  Shippen,  is  a  matter  of  feeling, 
not  of  years.  The  greatest  miracle  of  love  is  to  eradi- 
cate all  disparity.  Before  it  age,  rank,  lineage,  dis- 
tinction dissolve  like  the  slowly  fading  light  of  the  sun 
at  eventide.  The  General  is  bent  on  conquest;  that 
I'll  wager.  What  say  you,  Major?  A  five  pound 
note?" 

"Not  I.     'Old  men  are  twice  children,'  you  know." 

"Well,  if  I  do  say  it,"  remarked  Mrs.  Shippen,  "my 
daughter  has  had  a  splendid  education  and  is  as  cul- 
tured a  girl  as  there  is  in  the  city  and  would  make  a 
fitting  helpmate  for  any  man,  no  matter  what  his  posi- 
tion in  life  may  be." 

The  orchestra  began  to  fill  the  room  with  the  strains 
of  the  minuet.  Mr.  Anderson  arose  and  advanced 
towards  Marjorie. 

"May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company?"  he 
said. 

Marjorie  arose  and  gave  him  her  arm. 

II 

She  tripped  through  the  graces  of  the  minuet  in  a 
mechanical  sort  of  a  fashion,  her  thoughts  in  a  far  off 


96  THE  LOYALIST 

land  of  amazement  and  gloomy  desolation.  The  un- 
expected and  adverse  stroke  of  fortune  which  had 
descended  with  hawk-like  velocity  upon  Stephen  had 
thoroughly  disconcerted  her.  Try  as  she  would,  her 
imagination  could  not  be  brought  under  her  control. 
There  was  one  image  that  would  not  out,  and  that  was 
Stephen's. 

A  short  note  from  him  gave  the  first  inkling  to  her. 
He  had  been  placed  under  arrest  by  order  of  Major- 
General  Arnold  on  the  charge  of  striking  his  superior 
officer,  in  violation  of  the  Fifth  Article,  Second  Sec- 
tion of  the  American  Articles  of  War.  The  charge 
had  been  preferred  on  the  evening  previous  to  his 
arrest  and  bore  the  signature  of  Colonel  Forrest,  with 
whom,  she  called  to  mind,  he  had  participated  in  the 
affray  at  the  Inn. 

Little  would  come  of  it.  Of  that  she  could  rest 
assured.  For  if  he  chose  to  present  his  side  of  the 
case,  cause  might  be  found  against  the  Colonel  in  the 
matter  of  disrespectful  language  against  the  Com- 
mander-in-chief. On  that  account  the  affair  would 
very  probably  end  where  it  had  begun  and  his  sword 
would  once  more  be  restored  to  him.  Should  the 
Colonel  press  the  case,  however,  it  would  result  in  a 
court-martial,  that  being  the  usual  tribunal  before 
which  such  matters  were  tried. 

For  the  present  he  was  under  arrest.  He  was  not 
confined  and  no  limits  were  assigned  to  him  in  the 
order  of  his  arrest,  yet  he  was  deprived  of  his  sword 
and  therefore  without  power  to  exercise  any  military 
command  pending  his  trial.  Since  it  was  considered 
indecorous  in  an  officer  under  arrest  to  appear  at  public 
places,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  accompany 
her  to  the  home  of  the  Shippens  on  Friday  evening. 


THE  LOYALIST  97 

This  caused  him  the  greater  concern,  yet  his  word  of 
honor  obliged  him  to  await  either  the  issue  of  his  trial 
or  his  enlargement  by  the  proper  authority. 

He  bade  her  be  of  good  cheer  and  asked  a  remem- 
brance in  her  prayers,  assuring  her  she  would  be  ever 
present  in  his  thoughts.  Since  he  was  allowed  the  use 
of  his  personal  liberty,  he  would  soon  make  use  of  a 
favorable  opportunity  to  pay  her  a  call.  Until  then, 
he  could  tell  her  no  more,  save  the  desire  to  have  her 
attend  the  party  and  to  enjoy  herself  to  the  utmost. 

From  the  moment  of  her  receipt  of  this  letter,  she 
had  rehearsed  the  incidents  therein  narrated  over  and 
over  again.  Go  where  she  would  her  thought  followed 
her  as  instinctively  as  the  homeward  trail  of  the  bee. 
Reflection  possessed  her  and  she  was  lost  in  the  intri- 
cate maze  of  the  world  of  fancy. 

To  follow  mere  instinct  does  not  beseem  a  man, 
yet  for  woman  this  faculty  is  the  height  of  reason  and 
will  be  trusted  by  her  to  the  very  end.  Marjorie's  in- 
stinct told  her  that  all  would  not  be  well  with  Stephen, 
notwithstanding  his  place  of  honor  on  the  staff  of  the 
Commander-in-chief,  to  whom  he  might  readily  appeal 
should  the  occasion  require.  The  charge  was  of  minor 
consequence,  and  could  under  ordinary  circumstances 
be  dismissed ;  but  it  would  not  be  dismissed.  He  would 
be  tried,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced.  A  consummation 
too  horrible  for  thought! 

She  could  not  enjoy  herself  at  Peggy's  function,  that 
she  knew.  But  she  must  attend,  if  for  no  other  reason 
than  for  appearance.  The  strange  regard  for  this 
officer,  which  she  had  discovered  to  be  growing  daily 
in  intensity  and  depth,  had  been  brought  to  definite 
realization  by  the  sudden  crisis  in  Stephen's  fortunes. 
The  sudden  revelation  of  this  truth  from  which  she 


98  THE  LOYALIST 

was  wont  to  recoil  with  petulant  diffidence  alarmed  her 
not  a  little.  She  must  not  allow  herself  to  be  perturbed 
over  this  incident,  and  no  one,  not  even  her  mother, 
must  ever  be  permitted  to  detect  the  slightest  concern 
on  her  part. 

"You  seem  unusually  preoccupied  this  evening, 
Mistress  Allison,"  remarked  Mr.  Anderson  as  he  led 
her  to  one  side  of  the  room  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
dance. 

Marjorie  started.  She  could  feel  herself  coloring 
into  a  deep  scarlet,  which  endured  the  more  as  she 
strove  desperately  to  retain  her  natural  composure. 

"I?     Why?     No!     Did  I  appear  absent-minded?" 

"As  if  sojourning  in  some  far  off  land." 

She  thought  for  a  moment. 

"We  all  inhabit  dream  countries." 

"True.  We  do.  And  there  is  no  swifter  vehicle  to 
that  fair  land  than  an  inattentive  companion." 

"You  mean " 

"That  I  am  entirely  at  fault  for  allowing  you  to 
wander  there." 

"You  are  unkind  to  yourself  to  say  that." 

"I  vow  I  mean  it." 

They  neared  the  settee  into  which  he  gallantly  as- 
sisted her.  She  made  room  for  him  by  drawing  back 
the  folds  of  her  gown. 

"Have  you  ever  had  a  miniature  made?"  he  asked 
of  her. 

"Never.  I  scarce  gave  it  a  thought,"  she  replied 
nonchalantly. 

"In  that  gown,  you  would  make  a  perfect  picture." 

"Couldst  thou  paint  it?"  she  asked  quickly  with  the 
attitude  of  one  who  has  proposed  an  impossible  ques- 
tion. 


THE  LOYALIST  99 

"Aye,  and  willingly,  would  I,"  he  smartly  replied. 

"I  should  love  to  see  it.  I  should  scarce  know  mine 
own  face." 

She  regarded  the  subject  with  ridicule,  observing  as 
she  spoke  the  end  of  the  sash  with  which  her  fingers 
had  been  fumbling. 

"You  shall  see  it  as  it  is  with  no  artful  flattery  to 
disfigure  it.  May  I  bring  it  in  person?  The  post- 
rider's  bag  is  too  unworthy  a  messenger." 

"Lud!  I  shall  be  unable  to  restrain  my  curiosity 
and  await  the  carrier." 

"Then  I  shall  be  the  carrier." 

"Nothing  would  afford  me  more  pleasure." 

Neither  of  the  two  spoke  for  a  moment. 

She  wondered  if  she  were  imprudent.  While  she 
had  not  known  this  man  before  this  evening,  still  she 
knew  of  him  as  the  one  who  took  part  in  the  disturb- 
ance at  the  Coffee  House. 

He  seemed  unusually  attentive  to  her,  although  not 
unpleasantly  so,  and  innocently  enough  the  question 
presented  itself  to  her  as  to  the  import  of  his  motives. 
He  had  sought  no  information  nor  did  he  disclose  any 
concerning  himself,  for  at  no  time  did  their  conversa- 
tion arise  to  any  plane  above  the  commonplace.  Yet 
she  was  willing  to  see  him  again  and  to  discover,  if 
possible,  the  true  state  of  his  mind. 

Stephen,  she  knew,  would  approve  of  her  action; 
not  only  because  of  the  personal  satisfaction  which1 
might  be  derived  therefrom,  but  also  because  of  the 
possibilities  which  such  a  meeting  might  unfold.  That 
Anderson  was  prompted  by  some  ulterior  motive  and 
that  he  was  not  attracted  so  much  by  her  charms  as  by 
the  desire  of  seeking  some  advantage,  she  was  keen 
enough  to  sense.  Just  what  this  quest  might  lead  to 


ioo  THE  LOYALIST 

could  not  be  fathomed,  yet  it  presented  at  all  hazards 
a  situation  worthy  of  more  than  a  passing  notice. 

She  mistrusted  General  Arnold,  a  mere  opinion  it 
was  true,  for  she  possessed  no  evidence  to  warrant  even 
a  suspicion,  yet  something  about  the  man  created  within 
her  heart  a  great  want  of  confidence  and  reliance.  He 
was  supremely  overbearing  and  unusually  sensitive. 
This,  together  with  his  vaulting  ambition  and  love  of 
display, — traits  which  even  the  merest  novice  could  not 
fail  to  observe, — might  render  him  capable  of  the  most 
brilliant  achievements,  such  as  his  exploits  before  the 
walls  of  Quebec  and  on  the  field  of  Saratoga,  or  of 
unwise  and  wholly  irresponsible  actions,  of  some  of 
which,  although  of  minor  consequence,  he  had  been 
guilty  during  the  past  few  months.  He  disliked  her 
form  of  religious  worship,  and  she  strongly  suspected 
this  was  the  reason  he  so  openly  opposed  the  alliance 
with  the  French.  She  regarded  this  prejudice  as  a 
sad  misfortune  in  a  man  of  authority.  His  judgments 
were  liable  to  be  clouded  and  unfair. 

She  knew  Peg£y  like  a  book  and  she  could  easily 
imagine  the  inJkence  such  a  girl  could  exert,  as  a  wife, 
on  a  man  so  constituted.  Peggy's  social  ambition  and 
her  marked  passion  for  display  and  domination,  traits 
no  less  apparent  in  her  than  in  her  mother,  would  lead 
her  to  view  the  overtures  of  her  impetuous  suitor  with 
favor,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  was  almost 
double  her  own  age.  As  his  wife  she  would  attain  a 
social  prestige.  She  was  a  Tory  at  heart,  and  he  evi- 
denced at  sundry  times  the  same  inclinations.  She  was 
a  Quaker,  while  he  belonged  to  the  religion  of  His 
Majesty,  the  King;  nevertheless,  both  agreed  in  this, 
that  the  miserable  Papists  were  an  ambitious  and  crafty 
lot,  who  were  bent  on  obtaining  an  early  and  complete 


THE  LOYALIST  101 

mastery  over  this  country.  The  pair  were  well  mated 
in  many  respects,  thought  Marjorie,  the  disparity  in 
their  ages  was  all  that  would  render  the  match  at  all 
irregular,  although  Peggy's  more  resolute  will  and  in- 
tense ambition  would  make  her  the  dominant  member 
of  the  alliance.  Little  as  the  General  suspected  it, 
Marjorie  thought,  he  was  slowly,  though  surely,  being 
encircled  in  the  web  which  Peggy  and  her  artful  mother 
were  industriously  spinning  about  him. 

Ill 

Marjorie  and  Anderson  sat  conversing  long  and 
earnestly.  Several  dances  were  announced  and  en- 
gaged in,  with  little  or  no  manifest  attention  on  their 
part,  so  engrossed  were  they  in  the  matter  of  more 
serious  import.  At  length  they  deserted  their  vantage 
ground  for  the  more  open  and  crowded  room,  pausing 
before  Peggy  and  the  General,  who  were  sheltered 
near  the  entrance. 

"Heigho,  John!"  exclaimed  His  Excellency  upon 
their  approach,  "what  strange  absconding  is  this? 
Have  a  care,  my  boy,  lest  you  have  to  answer  to 
Captain  Meagher." 

Marjorie  felt  the  gaze  of  the  group  full  upon  her. 
She  flushed  a  little. 

"Little  or  no  danger,  nor  cause  alleged,"  she 
laughed. 

"Captain  Meagher!"  recollected  Anderson,  "does 
he  excel?" 

"I  scarce  know,"  replied  Marjorie.  "I  have  met 
him  not  over  thrice  in  my  life." 

"Once  is  quite  sufficient,"  said  the  General.  "First 
impressions  often  endure.  But  stay.  Draw  your 


102  THE  LOYALIST 

chairs.  I  was  only  saying  that  I  may  be  required  to 
leave  here  shortly." 

"You  have  been  transferred?"  asked  Marjorie. 

"No!  But  I  have  written  to  Washington  begging 
for  a  command  in  the  navy.  My  wounds  are  in  a  fair 
way  and  less  painful  than  usual,  though  there  is  little 
prospect  of  my  being  able  to  be  in  the  field  for  a  con- 
siderable time." 

They  sat  down  as  requested,  opposite  Peggy  and 
the  General. 

"But,  General,  have  you  not  taken  us  into  your  con- 
sideration?" asked  Anderson. 

"I  have,  yet  the  criticism  is  becoming  unendurable. 
Of  course  you  have  heard  that  matters  have  already 
become  strained  between  the  civil  government  and  my- 
self. Only  last  week  my  head  aide-de-camp  sent  for  a 
barber  who  was  attached  to  a  neighboring  regiment, 
using  as  a  messenger  the  orderly  whom  I  had  stationed 
at  the  door.  For  this  trifling  order  there  has  been 
aroused  a  hornet's  nest." 

"Wherein  lay  the  fault?"  asked  Marjorie. 

"In  this.  It  appears  from  a  letter  which  I  have 
already  received  from  the  father  of  the  sergeant 
(Matlack  is  his  name,  to  be  exact)  that  the  boy  was 
hurt  by  the  order  itself  and  the  manner  of  it,  and  as  a 
freeman  would  not  submit  to  such  an  indignity  as  to 
summon  a  barber  for  the  aide  of  a  commanding  officer. 
We  have  a  proud,  stubborn  people  to  rule,  who  are  no 
more  fitted  for  self-government  than  the  Irish " 

He  stopped  short. 

Marjorie  bit  her  lip.  "I  wish,  General,  you  would 
withdraw  your  comparison.  It  is  painful  to  me." 

"I  am  sorry,  Mistress  Allison.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
I  hardly  knew  what  I  had  said.  I  do  withdraw  it." 


THE  LOYALIST  103 

"Thank  you  so  much." 

Then  he  went  on. 

"These  Americans  are  not  only  ungrateful,  but 
stupidly  arrogant.  What  comparison  can  be  drawn 
between  this  dullard,  Matlack,  whose  feelings  as  a 
citizen  were  hurt  by  an  order  of  an  aide-de-camp,  and 
I,  when  I  was  obliged  to  serve  a  whole  campaign 
under  the  command  of  a  gentleman  who  was  not  known 
as  a  soldier  until  I  had  been  some  time  a  brigadier. 
My  feelings  had  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  interest  of  my 
country.  Does  not  the  fool  know  that  I  became  a« 
soldier  and  bear  the  marks  upon  me,  to  vindicate  the 
rights  of  citizens?" 

He  talked  rapidly,  yet  impassionately.  It  was  plain, 
however,  that  he  was  seriously  annoyed  over  the  turn 
of  events,  on  which  subject  he  conversed  with  his 
whole  being.  He  made  gestures  with  violence.  His 
face  became  livid.  His  attitude  was  menacing. 

"On  my  arrival  here,  my  very  first  act  was  con- 
demned. It  became  my  duty,  because  of  sealed  orders 
from  the  Commander-in-chief,  who  enclosed  a  resolu- 
tion adopted  by  Congress,  to  close  the  shops.  From 
the  day,  censure  was  directed  against  me.  I  was  not 
the  instigator  of  it.  Yet  I  was  all  to  blame." 

He  sat  up  with  his  hands  on  his  knees,  looking 
fiercely  into  the  next  room. 

"I  would  not  feel  so  bitter,  your  Excellency,"  volun- 
teered Anderson.  "Military  orders,  however  neces- 
sary, always  seem  oppressive  to  civilians  and  shop- 
keepers." 

"I  have  labored  well  for  the  cause,  and  my  reward 
has  been  this.  I  took  Ticonderoga,  although  Allen 
got  the  credit  for  it.  I  would  have  taken  Canada,  if 
Congress  had  not  blundered.  I  saved  Lake  Champlain 


104  THE  LOYALIST 

with  my  flotilla, — a  fleet  that  lived  to  no  better  pur- 
pose nor  died  more  gloriously, — and  for  this  I  got  no 
promotion,  nor  did  I  expect  one.  I  won  at  Ridgefield 
and  received  a  Major-Generalship,  only  to  find  myself 
outranked  by  five  others.  At  Saratoga  I  was  without 
a  command,  yet  I  succeeded  in  defeating  an  army.  For 
that  service  I  was  accused  of  being  drunk  by  the  gen- 
eral in  command,  who,  for  his  service,  received  a  gold 
medal  with  a  vote  of  thanks  from  Congress,  while  I — 
well,  the  people  gave  me  their  applause;  Congress  gave 
me  a  horse,  but  what  I  prize  more  than  all, — these 
sword  knots,"  he  took  hold  of  them  as  he  spoke,  "a 
personal  offering  from  the  Commander-in-chief.  I 
gave  my  all.  I  received  a  few  empty  honors  and  the 
ingratitude  of  a  jealous  people." 

He  paused. 

"General,"  began  Marjorie,  "you  know  the  people 
still  worship  you  and  they  do  want  you  for  their 
popular  leader." 

"I  know  differently,"  he  snapped  back.  "I  have 
already  petitioned  Congress  for  a  grant  of  land  in 
western  New  York,  where  I  intend  to  lead  the  kind 
of  life  led  by  my  friend  Schuyler  in  Livingston,  or  the 
Van  Renssalaers  and  other  country  gentlemen.  My 
ambition  now  js  to  be  a  good  citizen,  for  I  intend  never 
to  draw  a  sword  on  the  American  side." 

He  again  grew  silent. 

Whether  he  was  sincere  \n  his  remarks,  and  his 
manner  of  expression  seemingly  revealed  no  other  dis- 
position of  mind,  or  was  swayed  simply  by  some  un- 
founded antipathy  which  caused  the  image  of  his  aver- 
sion to  become  a  sort  of  hallucination,  Marjorie  could 
not  decide.  She  knew  him  to  be  impulsive  and  irre- 
pressible, a  man  who,  because  of  his  deficiency  in 


THE  LOYALIST  105 

breadth,  scope  of  intelligence,  and  strong  moral  con- 
victions, invariably  formed  his  opinions  in  public  mat- 
ter on  his  personal  feelings.  He  was  a  man  of  moods, 
admirably  suited  withal  for  a  command  in  the  field 
where  bluntness  and  abruptness  of  manner  could  cause 
him  to  rise  to  an  emergency,  but  wholly  unfitted  for 
this  reason  for  a  diplomatic  office  where  the  utmost 
delicacy  of  tact  and  nicety  of  decision  are  habitually 
required. 

She  knew,  moreover,  that  he  ever  bore  a  fierce 
grudge  towards  Congress  for  the  slights  which  it  had 
put  upon  him,  and  that  this  intense  feeling,  together 
with  his  indomitable  self-will,  had  brought  him  into 
conflict  with  the  established  civil  authority.  He  was 
Military  Governor  of  the  city  and  adjacent  country- 
side, yet  there  existed  an  Executive  Council  of  Penn- 
sylvania for  the  care  of  the  state,  and  the  line  of  de- 
marcation between  the  two  powers  never  had  been 
clearly  drawn.  Accordingly  there  soon  arose  many 
occasions  for  dispute,  which  a  more  even-tempered  man 
would  have  had  the  foresight  to  avoid.  His  point  of 
view  was  narrow,  not  only  in  affairs  civil  and  political, 
but  it  must  be  said,  in  social  and  religious  as  well.  Of 
all  commanders,  he  was  the  most  unsuited  for  the  task. 

Furthermore  she  knew  that  he  was  becoming  de- 
cidedly more  unpopular  each  day,  not  only  because  of 
the  extravagance  in  his  manner  of  living,  but  also  be- 
cause of  his  too  frequent  association  with  the  Tory 
element  of  the  city.  While  the  British  had  held  the 
city  many  of  the  more  aristocratic  inhabitants  had 
given  them  active  aid  and  encouragement,  much  to  the 
displeasure  of  the  more  loyal  though  less  important 
lower  class.  Consequently  when  the  days  of  the  evacua- 
tion had  come  and  the  city  had  settled  down  once  again 


io6  THE  LOYALIST 

to  its  former  style  of  living,  many  of  the  Tory  element 
were  compelled  to  leave  town  while  those  who  had 
remained  behind  were  practically  proscribed.  Small 
wonder  was  it  that  indignation  ran  riot  when  the  first 
Military  Governor  openly  cast  his  lot  with  the  enemies 
of  the  cause  and  consorted  with  them  freely  and  fre- 
quently. 

It  was  entirely  possible  that  he  would  abide  by  his 
decision  to  resign  all  public  office  and  retire  to  private 
life,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  already  had  at 
this  same  moment  despatched  a  letter  to  General 
Washington  requesting  a  command  in  the  navy.  But 
she  read  him  differently  and  found  herself  surprised 
to  learn  of  his  intended  withdrawal,  for  his  very  nature 
seemed  to  indicate  that  he  would  fight  his  cause  to  the 
bitter  end,  and  that  end  one  of  personal  satisfaction 
and  revenge. 

Several  of  the  guests  prepared  to  depart.  The  little 
group  disbanded  as  Peggy  made  her  way  to  their  side. 

Marjorie  and  John  Anderson  lost  each  other  for 
the  first  time  in  the  melee  which  ensued. 


IV 

"Perhaps  I  ought  to  return,"  Marjorie  muttered  to 
herself,  now  that  she  was  quite  alone.  "I  am  sure  that 
he  dropped  something." 

And  she  began  to  retrace  her  steps. 

She  felt  positive  that  she  saw  General  Arnold  acci- 
dently  dislodge  what  appeared  to  be  a  folded  note 
from  his  belt  when  he  took  hold  of  the  sword  knots  in 
the  course  of  his  conversation.  Very  likely  it  was  a 
report  of  some  nature,  which  had  been  hurriedly 
thrust  into  his  belt  during  some  more  preoccupied  mo- 


THE  LOYALIST  107 

ment.  At  any  rate  it  might  be  safer  in  her  hands  than 
to  be  left  to  some  less  interested  person.  She  would 
investigate  at  any  rate  and  resolve  her  doubts. 

Sure  enough,  there  it  was.  Just  behind  the  arm- 
chair in  which  he  had  been  seated  but  a  few  moments 
before.  None  of  the  others  had  observed  it,  she 
thought,  for  she  alone  was  in  a  position,  a  little  to  his 
left,  to  notice  it,  when  it  had  become  loosed. 

She  picked  it  up  and  regarded  it  carelessly,  nervous- 
ly, peering  the  while  into  the  great  room  beyond  to 
discover,  if  possible,  an  eye-witness  to  her  secret. 
From  its  appearance  it  was  no  more  than  a  friendly 
communication  written  on  conventional  letter  paper. 
It  was  unsealed,  or  rather  the  seal  had  been  broken 
and  from  the  wrinkled  condition  of  the  paper  gave 
evidence  of  not  a  little  handling.  It  belonged  to 
Peggy.  There  was  no  doubt  about  that,  for  there  was 
her  name  in  heavy  bold  script  on  the  outside. 

She  balanced  it  in  her  hand,  weighing,  at  the  same 
time,  within  her  mind,  one  or  two  possibilities.  She 
might  read  it  and  then,  if  the  matter  required  it,  return 
it  immediately  to  His  Excellency  with  an  explanation. 
Yet  it  would  smack  of  dishonor  to  read  the  private 
correspondence  of  another  without  a  sufficiently  grave 
reason.  It  belonged  to  Peggy,  who,  in  all  probability, 
had  been  acquainting  the  General  with  its  contents  as 
Mr.  Anderson  and  herself  intruded  upon  the  scene. 
She  therefore  resolved  to  return  it  unread. 

Hastily  folding  it,  she  stuck  it  into  her  bodice,  and 
made  her  way  into  the  room  where  she  became  lost 
among  the  guests.  There  would  be  time  enough  when 
the  formalities  of  the  departure  were  over,  when 
Peggy  was  less  occupied,  to  hand  it  her.  She  would 
wait  at  any  rate  until  later  in  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


But  she  did  not  return  the  paper.  For  with  the 
commotion  of  the  guests  in  the  several  orders  of  their 
going,  a  serious  business  of  felicitation  and  devoir  was 
demanded  alongside  of  which  all  other  matters  only 
served  as  distractions.  Consequently,  the  note  once 
placed  within  her  bodice,  all  thought  of  it  vanished  for 
the  remainder  of  the  evening. 

Only  when  she  had  returned  home  that  night,  fa- 
tigued and  almost  disgusted  with  the  perfunctory  per- 
formances of  the  evening,  did  she  discover  it,  and  then 
not  until  she  was  about  to  remove  the  garment  within 
whose  folds  it  lay  concealed.  It  fell  to  the  ground ;  she 
stooped  to  pick  it  up. 

"Oh,  dear!  I  quite  forgot  it.  I  must  attend  to  it 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

And  she  placed  it  on  the  dresser  where  it  could  not 
escape  her  eye.  Then  she  retired. 

But  she  did  not  sleep.  There  she  lay  wide  awake 
tossing  nervously  to  and  fro.  She  tried  to  close  her 
eyes  only  to  find  them  wandering  about  the  room  in 
the  obscure  dimness,  focusing  themselves  now  on  the 
old  mahogany  dresser,  now  on  the  little  prie-Dieu 
against  the  inner  wall  with  the  small  ivory  crucifix  out- 
lined faintly  above  it,  now  on  the  clwntz  hangings  that 
covered  the  window.  She  could  hea/  Her  heart,  pound- 
ing its  great  weight  of  bitterness  against  the  pillow; 

108 


THE  LOYALIST  109 

and  as  she  listened  she  thought  of  Stephen's  arrest  and 
of  its  thousand  and  one  horrible  consequences.  She 
tried  to  congratulate  herself  on  her  sweet  serenity  and 
the  serenity  only  mocked  her  and  anticipation  loomed 
as  fiercely  as  before. 

The  next  she  knew  was  a  quiet  awakening,  as  if  her 
mother's  hand  had  been  put  gently  on  her  arm.  Out- 
side ten  thousand  light  leaves  shivered  gently  and  the 
birds  were  calling  to  one  another  in  melodious  tones. 
This  was  her  first  glimpse  of  the  day  and  it  sent  her 
suddenly  to  her  knees. 

Stephen  came  late  that  afternoon.  He  had  not  been 
expected;  yet  she  was  happy  because  he  came.  She 
had  done  little  that  day;  had  not  left  the  house,  nor 
dressed  for  the  occasion.  The  note  was  where  she  had 
left  it,  and  all  reference  to  it  buried  with  her  thoughts 
of  the  evening. 

"I  cannot  yet  tell  how  it  has  been  decided.  They 
went  into  executive  session  at  once." 

"But  .  .  .  Surely  .  .  .  They  could  not  find  you 
guilty?" 

"Oh,  well." 

"Please  .  .  .  Won't  you  tell  me?" 

"There  is  little  to  tell.    It  was  very  brief." 

He  could  not  become  enthusiastic. 

"Then  you  were  put  to  trial?"  she  asked  with  an 
apprehension  uncertain  in  quality. 

"Yes." 

"Goon.    Tell  me." 

He  was  silent.  He  desired  to  withhold  nothing 
from  her,  yet  he  could  not  find  the  words  he  wanted. 

"What  happened?"     She  was  persistent. 

"Well  .     .  I  don't  know.  .     .  I  soured  on  the  whole 


no  THE  LOYALIST 

proceeding.  The  court-martial  met,  the  Regimental 
Court  Martial,  with  three  members.  This  was  permis- 
sible. They  began,  reading  the  charge  as  preferred 
by  Colonel  Forrest,  which  was  to  the  effect  that  I  had 
been  guilty  of  striking  my  superior  officer,  Colonel 
Forrest,  by  attempting  to  choke  him.  To  this  was 
added  the  accusation  of  abusive,  threatening  language 
as  well  as  a  threat  of  murder.  I,  of  course,  pleaded 
not  guilty;  nor  did  I  prepare  any  defense.  The  affair 
was  so  trivial  that  I  was  surprised  that  it  ever  had 
been  brought  to  trial." 

"How  long  did  the  proceedings  last?" 

"They  were  very  brief.  Several  witnesses  were  ex- 
amined, the  chief  one  being  Mr.  Anderson." 

"I  know  him,"  remarked  Marjorie. 

"You  know  him?" 

"I  met  him  last  evening  at  Shippens.'  ' 

"Did  he  say  aught  about  me?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"Well,  he  appeared  against  me.  After  a  few  more 
preliminary  questions  I  was  put  on  the  stand  in  my 
own  defense.  I  told  briefly  the  circumstances  which 
led  to  the  incident  (I  would  not  call  it  an  assault,  for 
I  continually  maintained  it  to  be  of  a  trivial  nature 
and  worthy  only  of  an  explanation).  I  told  how  the 
Colonel  had  used  certain  derogatory  remarks  against 
the  faith  that  I  believed  and  practiced,  which  occa- 
sioned a  violent  argument.  This,  I  think,  was  the  great 
mistake  I  made,  for  it  appeared  to  make  an  unfavor- 
able impression  upon  the  Court.  In  this  respect  they 
were  unquestionably  on  the  side  of  Forrest.  Then  I 
related  the  remark  incident  to  my  action,  and  an- 
nounced that  I  would  repeat  the  deed  under  similar 
circumstances  were  the  same  disrespectful  language 


THE  LOYALIST  in 

directed  against  the  Commander-in-chief.  This,  I 
fear,  made  little  impression  either  since  I  was  already 
attached  to  the  staff  of  General  Washington.-  And  a 
jealous  rival  general  was  about  to  decide  my  guilt. 
That  ended  it.  I  was  excused  and  the  Court  ad- 
journed." 

He  paused. 

"For  these  reasons  I  have  serious  misgivings  as  to 
my  fate." 

"What  can  happen  to  you?" 

"I  do  not  know.  It  may  result  in  a  suspension,  and 
it  may  result  in  a  verdict  of  'not  guilty.1  " 

"Will  you  know  very  soon?" 

"I  shall  be  summoned  before  them." 

Neither  spoke  for  a  time. 

"Do  you  know,"  observed  Marjorie,  "I  greatly 
mistrust  General  Arnold  and  I  fear  that  he  already  has 
decided  against  you." 

"What  causes  you  to  say  that?" 

"Well  ...  I  don't  know  ...  I  just  think  it.  While 
listening  to  him  last  evening  I  drew  that  impression." 

"Did  he  say  anything  against  us?" 

"He  is  enraged  at  Congress  and  he  has  long  felt 
persecuted  and  insulted  by  the  people.  He  desires  a 
command  in  the  navy  and  has  already  written  Wash- 
ington to  that  effect;  and  again  he  would  petition  Con- 
gress for  a  grant  of  land  in  New  York  where  he  would 
retire  to  private  life,  for  he  vows  he  never  will  again 
draw  sword  on  the  American  side." 

"Did  he  say  this?"  asked  Stephen. 

"He  did." 

"Do  you  think  that  he  was  sincere?'* 

"I  really  do.    He  talked  with  all  the  earnestness  of 


ii2  THE  LOYALIST 

a  man  of  conviction.  Somehow  or  other  I  greatly  mis- 
trust him.  And  he  is  extremely  bigoted." 

"I  rather  suspect  this,  although  I  have  had  no  proofs 
of  it.  If  he  is,  it  will  out  very  soon." 

"And  you  may  be  assured,  too,  that  he  will  have  an 
able  adjutant  in  Peggy.  She  is  his  counterpart  in  every 
particular." 

He  looked  at  her  as  she  spoke,  and  was  amazed  by 
the  excitement  in  her  face.  She  talked  excitedly;  her 
eyes,  those  large  vivacious  brown  eyes  that  looked  out 
of  her  pretty  oval  face,  were  alight,  and  her  face  had 
gone  pale. 

"I  was  interested  in  them  last  evening  and  with  the 
apparent  zeal  displayed  by  Peggy's  mother  in  favor 
of  the  match.  I  would  not  be  surprised  to  hear  of  an 
announcement  from  that  source  at  any  time." 

"Has  it  reached  that  stage?" 

"Most  assuredly!  I  decided  that  they  already  are 
on  terms  of  intimacy  where  secrets  now  obtain  a  com- 
mon value." 

"You  think  that?" 

"Well  ...  I  do.  .  .  .  Yes.  I  know,  for  instance 
that  he  had  a  letter  in  his  possession  which  was  ad- 
dressed to  her,  which  letter  had  its  origin  in  New 
York." 

"How  came  he  by  it?" 

"She  must  have  given  it  to  him.     I  have  it  now." 

"You  have  it?" 

He  sat  up  very  much  surprised. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"I  found  it." 

"Did  you  read  it?" 

"No." 


THE  LOYALIST  113 

She  smiled  at  him,  and  at  his  great  perplexity  over 
the  apparent  mystery. 

And  then  she  told  him  of  the  little  party;  of  herself 
and  Mr.  Anderson,  and  their  intrusion  upon  General 
Arnold  and  Peggy;  of  their  conversation  and  the  fall- 
ing of  the  note;  of  her  subsequent  return  for  it  to- 
gether with  the  placing  of  it  within  her  bodice  and  the 
state  of  temporary  oblivion  into  which  the  incident 
finally  had  lapsed. 

"You  have  that  letter  now?"  he  asked  with  no  at- 
tempt to  conceal  his  anxiety. 

"Yes.     Upstairs." 

"May  I  see  it?  Really  I  would  not  ask  this  did  I 
not  think  it  quite  important." 

"Very  well." 

She  left  to  fetch  it. 

"Who  is  this  man,  Anderson?"  Stephen  asked  upon 
her  return.  "Do  you  know  him?" 

"No.  But  he  is  very  engaging.  He  was  my  partner 
during  the  evening." 

She  did  not  deem  it  wise  to  tell  him  everything,  at 
least  not  at  this  time. 

"How  long  have  you  known  him?"  he  inquired  im- 
patiently. 

She  smiled  sweetly  at  him. 

"Since  last  night,"  was  the  brief  response. 

"Where  did  he  come  from?" 

"I  scarce  know.  You  yourself  mentioned  his  name 
for  the  first  time  to  me.  I  was  greatly  surprised  when 
presented  to  him  last  night." 

"Did  he  come  with  General  Arnold's  party,  or  is  he 
a  friend  of  Peggy's?" 

"I  don't  think  Peggy  knew  him  before,   although 


ii4  THE  LOYALIST 

she  may  have  met  him  with  some  of  the  officers  before 
last  evening.  I  should  imagine  from  what  you  already 
know  that  he  is  acquainted  with  the  Governor's  party 
and  through  them  received  an  invitation  to  be  present. 

"Did  he  say  aught  of  himself?" 

"Scarcely  a  thing.  He  has  not  been  a  resident  of 
the  city  for  any  length  of  time,  but  where  he  origi- 
nated, or  what  he  purposes,  I  did  not  learn.  I  rather 
like  him.  He  is  well-mannered,  refined  and  richly 
talented." 

"I  sensed  immediattly  that  he  was  endowed  with 
engaging  personal  qualities,  and  gifted  with  more  than 
ordinary  abilities,"  Stephen  commented.  "I  have  yet 
to  learn  his  history,  which  is  one  of  my  duties,  notwith- 
standing the  unfortunate  state  of  affairs  which  has 
lately  come  to  pass." 

He  stopped  and  took  the  letter  which  she  held  out 
to  him.  He  opened  it  and  read  it  carefully.  Then 
he  deliberately  read  it  again. 

"You  say  no  one  knows  of  this?" 

"I  am  quite  sure.  Certainly  no  one  saw  me  find  it, 
although  I  am  not  certain  that  I  alone  saw  it  fall." 

"You  are  sure  that  it  was  in  the  Governor's  pos- 
session?" 

"Quite.  I  saw  it  distinctly  in  his  belt.  I  saw  it  fall 
to  the  ground  when  he  caught  hold  of  the  sword 
knots." 

He  leaned  forward  and  reflected  for  a  moment 
with  his  eyes  intent  on  the  note  which  he  held  opened 
before  him.  Suddenly  he  sat  back  in  his  chair  and 
looked  straight  at  her. 

"Marjorie,"  he  said,  "you  promised  to  be  of  what- 
ever assistance  you  could.  Do  you  recall  that 
promise?" 


THE  LOYALIST  115 

"Very  well." 

"Will  you  lend  your  assistance  to  me  now?" 

She  hesitated,  wondering  to  what  extent  the  demand 
might  be  made. 

"Are  you  unwilling?"  he  asked,  for  he  perceived  her 
timid  misgiving. 

"No.    What  is  it  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"Simply  this.    Let  me  have  this  note." 

She  deliberated. 

"Would  not  that  be  unfair  to  Peggy?" 

She  feared  that  her  sense  of  justice  was  being  vio- 
lated. 

"She  does  not  know  that  you  have  it." 

"But  I  mean  to  tell  her." 

"Please!  .  .  .Well!  .  .  .Well!  .  .  Need  you  do 
that  immediately?  Could  you  not  let  me  have  it  for  a 
few  days?  I  shall  return  it  to  you.  You  can  then  take 
it  to  her." 

"You  will  let  no  one  see  it?" 

"Absolutely!" 

"Very  well.    And  you  will  return  it  to  me?" 

"I  promise." 

And  so  it  was  agreed  that  Stephen  should  take  the 
letter  with  him,  which  he  promised  to  return  together 
with  the  earliest  news  of  the  result  of  his  court-martial. 

He  stood  up. 

II 

Stephen  came  out  the  little  white  gate  closing  it  very 
deliberately  behind  him  and  immediately  set  off  at  a 
brisk  pace  down  the  street.  Every  fiber  within  him 
thrilled  with  energy.  The  road  was  dusty  and  hot, 
and  his  pace  grew  very  strenuous  and  fervent.  There 


n6  THE  LOYALIST 

was  no  breeze;  there  was  no  sound  of  wheels;  all  was 
quiet  as  the  bells  tolled  out  the  hour  of  six.  Never- 
theless he  trudged  along  with  great  haste  without  once 
stopping  until  he  had  reached  the  door  of  his  lodgings. 
He  turned  the  key  and  entered,  closing  the  door 
behind  him  and  taking  the  greatest  of  care  to  see  that 
it  was  properly  bolted.  Flinging  his  hat  into  a  chair 
as  he  passed,  he  went  immediately  to  the  table  which 
served  as  his  desk.  While  he  pulled  himself  close  to 
it,  he  reached  into  his  pocket  for  the  letter.  He  opened 
it  before  him  and  read  it.  Then  he  sat  back  and  read 
it  again;  this  time  aloud: 

Co.  13 

Headquarters,  New  York. 
15  July,  1778. 

Madame : — I  am  happy  to  ha^e  this  opportunity  to 
once  again  express  my  humble  respects  to  you  and  to 
assure  you  that  yourself  together  with  your  generous 
and  hospitable  friends  are  causing  us  much  concern 
separated  as  we  are  by  the  dia^eas  of  a  merciless  war. 
We  lead  a  monotonous  life,  for  outside  of  the  regu- 
larities of  army  life,  there  is  little  to  entertain  us.  Our 
hearts  are  torn  with  pangs  of  regret  as  we  recall  the 
golden  days  of  the  Mischlenza. 

I  would  I  could  be  of  some  service  to  you  here,  that 
you  may  understand  that  my  protestations  of  zeal 
made  on  former  occasions  were  not  without  some  de- 
gree of  sincerity.  Let  me  add,  too,  that  your  many 
friends  here  present  unite  with  me  in  these  same  sen<-i- 
ments  of  unaffected  and  genuine  devotion. 

I  beg  you  to  present  my  best  respects  to  your  sisters, 
to  the  Misses  Chew,  and  to  Mrs.  Shippen  and  Mrs. 
Chew. 


THE  LOYALIST  117 

I  have  the  honor  to  be  with  the  greatest  regard,  Ma- 
dame, your  most  obedient  and  most  humble  servant. 

W.  CATHCART. 
Miss  Peggy  Shippen, 
Philadelphia. 

His  face  was  working  oddly,  as  if  with  mingled  per- 
plexity and  pleasure;  and  he  caught  his  lip  in  his  teeth, 
as  his  manner  was.  What  was  this  innocent  note? 
Could  it  be  so  simple  as  it  appeared?  Vague  possi- 
bilities passed  through  his  mind. 

The  longer  he  gazed  as  it  the  more  simple  it  be- 
came, so  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  folding  it  and  re- 
placing it  in  his  pocket,  sadly  disconcerted  at  its  insig- 
nificance. He  had  hoped  that  he  might  have  stumbled 
across  something  of  real  value,  not  only  some  secret 
information  concerning  the  designs  of  the  enemy,  but 
also  some  evidence  of  an  incriminating  nature  against 
his  own  acquaintances  in  the  city. 

Suddenly  he  thought  he  saw  certain  letters  dotted 
over,  not  entirely  perceptible,  yet  quite  discernible.  He 
turned  the  paper  over.  The  reverse  was  perfectly 
clear.  He  held  it  to  the  light  but  nothing  appeared 
through. 

"By  Jove  I"  he  exclaimed  softly. 

He  looked  closely  again.  Sure  enough  there  were 
faint  markings  on  several  of  the  letters.  The  UH" 
was  marked.  So  with  the  "V"  in  "have,"  and  the  "A" 
and  the  "L."  Snatching  a  pencil  and  a  sheet  of  paper 
he  made  a  list  of  the  letters  so  marked. 
HVANLADERIIGAERODIRCUTN 

This  meant  nothing.  That  was  apparent;  nor  could 
he  make  sense  out  of  any  combination  of  letters.  He 
knew  that  there  were  certain  codes  whereby  the  two 


n8  THE  LOYALIST 

progressions,  arithmetical  and  geometric  were  em- 
ployed in  their  composition,  but  this  seemingly  an- 
swered to  none  of  them.  He  went  over  the  list  again, 
comparing  them  with  the  marked  letters  as  found  in 
the  note.  Yes,  they  were  identical.  He  had  copied 
them  faithfully. 

He  sighed  and  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair. 

"So  this  was  sent  to  Peggy  from  New  York,"  he 
muttered  to  himself.  "I  strongly  suspected  that  she 
was  in  communication  with  her  British  friends, 
although  I  never  came  in  contact  with  the  slightest 
evidence.  This  certainly  proves  it." 

He  held  the  letter  at  a  distance  from  him,  atten- 
tively surveying  it. 

"And  General  Arnold  has  been  interested,  too.  Very 
likely,  Marjorie's  hypothesis  is  the  true  one.  They 
had  been  reading  the  note  when  the  newcomers  ar- 
rived on  the  scene  and  the  General  stuck  it  in  his  belt 
until  their  greetings  had  been  ended.  Neither  of  them 
now  know  of  its  whereabouts;  that  much  is  certain." 

He  stood  up  suddenly  and  strode  about  the  room, 
his  hands  clasped  behind  him.  Going  to  the  window, 
he  peered  out  through  the  small  panes  of  glass  of  the 
uncurtained  upper  half.  There  burned  the  light  across 
the  dusk — a  patch  of  jeweled  color  in  the  far  off 
western  sky.  Yet  it  awakened  no  emotion  at  all. 

His  mind  was  engaged  in  the  most  intricate  process 
of  thought.  He  deduced  a  hundred  conclusions  and  re- 
jected them  with  equal  promptitude.  He  greatly  ad- 
mired General  Arnold  as  the  bravest  leader  in  the  line, 
whose  courage,  whose  heroism,  whose  fearlessness  had 
brought  him  signal  successes.  There  was  no  more 
popular  soldier  in  the  army,  nor  one  more  capable  of 
more  effective  service.  To  have  his  career  clogged  or 


THE  LOYALIST  119 

goaded  by  a  woman,  who  when  she  either  loves  or 
hates  will  dare  anything,  would  be  a  dreadful  calamity. 
Yet  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  surrendered  his  better  self. 

This  man  Anderson  puzzled  him.  Personally  he 
was  disposed  to  dislike  him,  that  being  the  logical  effect 
of  his  relations  with  him.  At  the  Coffee  House,  where 
he  had  met  him,  and  where  he  had  suffered  his  better 
judgment  to  become  dormant,  it  was  this  man  who  had 
brought  him  to  the  pitch  of  irritation  by  means  of  a 
religious  argument,  while  at  the  trial  it  was  the  same 
Anderson  who  appeared  as  an  excellent  witness  and 
who  by  his  clever,  deliberate  and  self-possessed  man- 
ner, made  a  strong  point  for  the  Colonel  in  the  minds 
of  the  court. 

What  was  his  origin?  That  he  might  never  know, 
for  of  all  subjects,  this  was  the  most  artfully  avoided. 
In  the  capacity  of  a  civilian  he  was  engaged  in  no  fixed 
occupation  so  far  as  could  be  learned,  and  it  was  com- 
monly known  that  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Gov- 
ernor's mansion.  That  he  did  not  belong  to  the  serv- 
ice, he  knew  very  well,  unless  the  man  was  affecting  a 
disguise ;  this,  however,  he  thought  highly  improbable. 
The  French  Alliance  had  been  further  confirmed  by 
the  arrival  of  the  fleet,  which  brought  many  strangers 
to  the  city.  Now  as  he  thought  of  it,  he  had  a  certain 
manner  about  him  somewhat  characteristic  of  the 
French  people,  and  it  was  entirely  possible  that  he 
might  have  disembarked  with  the  French  visitors.  He 
was  a  mystery  anyhow. 

"Strange  I  should  stumble  across  this  chap,"  he 
mumbled  to  himself. 


120  THE  LOYALIST 

in 

He  awoke  with  a  start. 

Just  what  the  hour  was,  he  could  not  know,  for  it 
was  intensely  dark.  He  reckoned  that  it  could  not  be 
long  after  midnight,  for  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  scarcely 
fallen  asleep.  But  there  was  a  wonderful  burst  of 
light  to  his  mind,  a  complete  clarity  of  thought  into 
which  often  those  do  awake  who  have  fallen  asleep  in 
a  state  of  great  mental  conflict.  He  opened  his  eyes 
and,  as  it  were,  beheld  all  that  he  was  about  to  do; 
there  was  also  a  very  vivid  memory  of  his  experience 
of  the  evening. 

He  arose  hurriedly  and  struck  a  light.  He  seized 
the  letter  in  search  of  the  momentous  something  that 
had  dawned  upon  him  with  wonderful  intensity. 

"Company  Thirteen,"  he  remarked  with  deliberate 
emphasis.  "That  must  be  the  key." 

And  seizing  a  paper  he  wrote  the  order  of  letters 
which  he  had  copied  from  the  note  a  few  hours  before. 

HV ANLA  DE  R I  I  G 

He  stopped  at  the  thirteenth,  and  began  a  second 
line  immediately  under  the  line  he  had  just  written. 

AERODIRCUTN 

It  inserted  perfectly  when  read  up  and  down  begin- 
ning with  the  letter  "H".  He  completed  the  sentence. 

HAVE  ARNOLD  AID  RECRUITING 

He  could  not  believe  his  eyes.  What  did  it  all  mean? 
What  regiment  was  this?  Why  should  this  be  sent 
from  a  British  officer  to  Peggy  Shippen?  There  were 
mixed  considerations  here. 

There  was  a  satisfaction,  a  very  great  satisfaction, 


THE  LOYALIST  121 

in  the  knowledge  that  he  was  not  entirely  mistaken  in 
his  suspicions  concerning  Peggy.  She  was  in  communi- 
cation with  the  British  and  perhaps  had  been  for  some 
time.  This  fact  in  itself  was  perfectly  plain.  The 
proof  of  it  lay  in  his  hand.  Whether  or  not  His  Ex- 
cellency was  involved  in  the  nefarious  work  was  an- 
other question  quite.  The  mere  fact  of  the  note  being 
in  his  possession  signified  nothing,  or  if  anything,  no 
more  than  a  coincidence.  He  might  have  read  the  note 
and,  at  the  same  time,  have  been  entirely  ignorant  of 
the  cipher,  or  he  might  have  received  this  hidden  in- 
formation from  the  lips  of  Peggy  herself,  who  un- 
doubtedly had  deciphered  it  at  once. 

Yet  what  was  the  meaning  of  it  all?  There  was  no 
new  call  for  volunteers,  although,  Heaven  knows,  there 
was  an  urgent  need  for  them,  the  more  especially  after 
the  severe  winter  at  Valley  Forge.  Recruits  had  be- 
come exceedingly  scarce,  many  of  whom  were  already 
deserting  to  the  British  army  at  the  rate  of  over  a 
hundred  a  month  while  those  who  remained  were  with- 
out food  or  clothing.  And  when  they  were  paid,  they 
could  buy,  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  a  single 
bushel  of  wheat  from  the  fruits  of  their  four  month's 
labor.  And  did  it  prove  to  be  true  that  a  new  armv 
was  about  to  be  recruited,  why  should  the  enemy  mani- 
fest so  much  interest?  The  new  set  of  difficulties  into 
which  he  was  now  involved  were  more  intricate  than 
ever  before. 

He  extinguished  the  light  and  went  to  bed. 

The  next  day  a  number  of  copies  of  the  New  York 
Gazette  and  Weekly  Mercury  of  the  issue  of  July  13, 
1778,  found  their  way  into  the  city.  They  were  found 
to  contain  the  following  advertisement: 


122  THE  LOYALIST 

For  the  encouragement  of  all 

Gentlemen  Volunteers, 

Who  are  willing  to  serve     in  his  Majesty's  Regt.  of 
Roman  Catholic  Volunteers, 

Commanded  by 

Lieut. — Col.  Commandant, 

ALFRED  CLIFTON 

During  the  present  wanton  and  unnatural  Rebellion, 

AND  NO  LONGER, 

The  sum  of  FOUR  POUNDS, 

will  be  given  above  the  usual  Bounty, 

A  suit  of  NEW  CLOTHES, 
And  every  other  necessary  to  complete  a  Gentleman  soldier. 

Those  who  are  willing  to  show  their  attachment  to  their  King  and 
country  by  engaging  in  the  above  regiment,  will  call  at  Captain 
M'Kennon,  at  No.  51,  in  Cherry-street,  near  the  Ship  Yards,  NEW 
YORK,  or  at  Major  John  Lynch,  encamped  at  Yellow-Hook,  where 
they  will  receive  present  pay  and  good  quarters. 

N.  B. — Any  person  bringing  a  well-bodied  loyal  subject  to  either 
of  the  above  places,  shall  receive  ONE  GUINEA  for  his  trouble. 

God  Save  the  King." 


CHAPTER  IX 


It  was  not  until  the  following  Wednesday  night  that 
John  Anderson  was  ready  to  pay  his  respects  to  Mis- 
tress Marjorie. 

He  had  worked  on  the  miniature  since  Saturday,  and 
had  regarded  his  finished  product  with  eminent  satis- 
faction. He  had  drawn  her  as  she  appeared  to  him  on 
the  night  of  the  reception  in  the  pose  which  he  had  best 
remembered  her  during  the  interval  when  she  sat  out 
the  dance  with  him;  her  head  turned  partly  towards 
him,  revealing  her  small  oval  face  surmounted  by  a 
wealth  of  brown  hair,  powdered  to  a  gray;  her  small 
nose  with  just  a  suggestion  of  a  dilatation  lending  to 
the  face  an  expression  of  strength  that  the  rest  of  the 
countenance  only  gave  color  to;  the  mouth,  firmly  set, 
its  lines  curving  upward,  as  it  should  be,  to  harmonize 
with  her  disposition;  the  eyes,  a  soft  brown,  full  of 
candor  and  sincerity,  delicately  shadowed  by  slender 
and  arched  eyebrows  on  a  smooth  forehead. 

Marjorie  could  not  conceal  her  enthusiasm  as  he 
handed  it  to  her.  Unable  to  restrain  her  curiosity,  she 
arose  hurriedly  and  went  to  the  window  to  benefit  by 
the  less  obscure  light. 

"Is — am  I  as  pretty  as  that?"  she  exclaimed  from 
her  vantage  point,  without  lifting  her  eyes  from  the 
portrait. 

123 


124  THE  LOYALIST 

"Only  more  so,"  responded  Anderson.  "My  mem- 
ory poorly  served  me." 

"Lud!"  she  remarked,  holding  it  at  arms  length 
from  her,  "  'Tis  vastly  flattering.  I  scarce  recognize 
myself." 

She  returned  to  her  chair. 

"I  swear  on  my  honor,  that  it  fails  to  do  you  full 
justice." 

She  continued  to  study  it,  paying  but  little  heed  to 
his  remark.  It  was  a  water-colored  portrait  done  on 
ivory  of  the  most  delicate  workmanship  and  design,  set 
in  a  fine  gold  case,  delicately  engraved,  the  whole  pre- 
senting an  appearance  of  beauty,  richly  colored.  She 
turned  it  over  and  saw  the  letters  J.A.M.A.  interlaced 
over  the  triplet: 

"Hours  fly;  flowers  die; 
New  days,  new  ways, 
Pass  by.    Love  stays." 

"It  is  very  pretty,"  was  her  only  comment. 

"Hast  no  one  told  thee  how  well  thou  might  appear 
in  a  ball  gown?" 

"I  ne'er  gave  thought  to  such." 

"Nor  what  an  impression  thou  wouldst  make  at 
court?" 

"Hast  thou  seen  court  beauties?" 

She  resolved  to  learn  more  about  him. 

"Aye!     Oft  have  I  been  in  their  company." 

"At  St.  James?" 

"No.  Much  as  I  would  have  been  pleased  to.  I 
know  only  Versailles." 

So  she  thought  he  must  be  a  French  nobleman,  who 
like  Lafayette  had  incurred  the  royal  displeasure  by 
running  away  from  court  to  fit  out  a  vessel  at  his  own 


THE  LOYALIST  125 

expense  in  the  hope  of  furthering  the  cause  of  the 
Colonists.  The  great  impulse  given  to  the  hopes  of 
the  disheartened  population  by  the  chivalrous  exploit 
of  the  latter,  the  sensation  produced  both  by  his  de- 
parture from  Europe  and  by  his  appearance  in  this 
country,  might  behold  a  glorious  repetition  in  the 
person  of  this  unknown  visitor. 

Her  interest  accordingly  grew  apace. 

"It  was  magnanimous  of  His  Majesty  to  take  our 
cause  to  his  heart.  We  can  never  fail  in  our  grati- 
tude." 

"It  is  only  natural  for  man  to  resist  oppression.  It 
has  been  written  that  it  is  only  the  meek  who  should 
possess  the  land." 

"An  ideal  which  is  often  badly  shattered  by  the  self- 
ish ambitions  and  pe;;#€rse  passions  of  godless  men." 

"You  are  a  Catholic?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

"I  am  proud  of  it." 

"And  your  fellow  patriots  are  of  the  same  form  of 
worship?" 

"A  goodly  proportion  of  them." 

"How  many  might  you  assume?" 

"I  scarce  know.  We  have  no  method  of  compiling 
our  numbers,  not  even  our  total  population." 

"Surely  there  must  be  a  great  percentage,  if  one 
considers  the  influx  from  France  and  England,  not  to 
mention  Ireland,  whence  many  fled  from  persecution." 

"I  once  heard  Father  Farmer  say  that  there  must 
be  over  seven  thousand  Catholics  in  Pennsylvania, 
while  Maryland  has  about  fifteen  thousand.  What- 
ever there  remain  are  much  scattered,  except  of  course 
New  York  with  its  thousand." 

"I  never  dreamt  they  were  so  numerous  I    So  great 


126  THE  LOYALIST 

is  the  spirit  of  intolerance,  that  the  wonder  is  that 
a  single  Catholic  would  remain  in  the  Colonies." 

"I  know  it.  Formerly  Maryland  and  Pennsylvania 
were  the  two  only  colonies  where  Catholics  were 
allowed  to  reside,  and  even  there  were  excluded  from 
any  civil  or  military  office.  And  the  time  has  not  yet 
arrived  for  complete  religious  freedom,  though  the 
arrival  of  the  French  fleet  with  its  Catholic  army  and 
Catholic  chaplains  will  make  a  favorable  impression 
upon  our  less  enlightened  oppressors." 

"It  seems  strange  that  you  should  throw  in  your 
lot  with  a  people  who  prove  so  intolerant." 

"Father  Farmer,  our  pastor,  says  that  no  influence 
must  ever  be  used  except  for  the  national  cause,  for  we 
must  be  quickened  by  the  hope  of  better  days.  He 
pleads  with  his  people  to  remain  faithful  and  promises 
the  undivided  sympathy  of  his  fellow  priests  with  their 
kinsmen  in  the  struggle.  For  these  reasons  I  hardly 
think  that  many  Catholics  will  desert  our  cause." 

"Yet  you  must  know  that  it  was  England  that  be- 
stowed the  most  liberal  grants  to  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Northwest  territory." 

"You  mean  the  Quebec  Act?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.  And  you  know  that  Canada  would  be  allied 
with  you,  heart  and  soul,  were  it  not  for  the  intoler- 
ant spirit  of  your  fellow  colonists." 

"Perhaps  it  would." 

"Now,  would  it  not  be  better " 

"Do  you  mean  to  suggest  to  me  that  we  turn 
traitor?"  she  interrupted,  turning  full  upon  him,  her 
eyes  flashing  with  intense  feeling. 

"No.  .  .  .  pardon.  ...  I  meant  no  offense.  .  .  . 
The  fact  is  I  was  only  remarking  on  the  sad  plight  of 
our  co-religionists." 


THE  LOYALIST  127 

"I  fail  to  perceive  how  ill  we  fare.  Our  compatriots 
render  us  honor,  and  as  Father  Farmer  says,  'we  may 
cherish  the  hope  of  better  days,  which  are  inevitable.' 
You  must  know  that  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  is  a  Catholic;  and  that  the  army 
and  navy  boast  of  a  considerable  quota." 

"We  are  not  ungenerous  of  our  service,  it  seems." 

"Rather  are  we  proud  of  our  efforts.  We  are  proud 
of  the  fact  that  there  has  been  found  among  us  not  one 
false  to  his  country.  We  point  with  pride  to  him  who 
was  privileged  to  first  read  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence to  the  public.  We  are  proud  of  the  composi- 
tion of  Washington's  'Life  Guard' ;  and  we  are  proud 
of  our  mutual  friend,  whom,  perhaps,  you  know,"  and 
she  glanced  at  him  with  a  merry  twinkle,  "Captain 
Meagher,  Washington's  aide-de-camp." 

And  so  they  talked.  Marjorie  became  completely 
absorbed  in  her  subject,  once  her  religion  became  the 
topic,  and  she  almost  forgot  her  game  in  regard  to 
her  visitor.  She  desired  to  appear  to  the  best  advan- 
tage, however,  for  which  purpose  she  talked  freely,  in 
the  hope  of  extracting  from  him  some  information  con- 
cerning himself  and  his  intents.  Still,  however,  there 
was  another  extreme  which,  though  apparently  less 
dangerous,  she  must  be  careful  to  avoid.  The  imag- 
inations of  men  are  in  a  great  measure  under  the  con- 
trol of  their  feelings  and  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
for  her  to  refrain  from  imparting  too  much  informa- 
tion lest  it  might  deflect  from  its  purpose  the  very 
object  she  was  seeking  to  obtain. 

There  was  a  subtle  influence  about  him,  an  adroit- 
ness of  speech,  a  precision  of  movement  which,  unless 
sufficiently  safeguarded  against,  was  insi/Sious.  He  had 
the  most  wonderful  way  of  getting  one's  confidence,  not 


128  THE  LOYALIST 

only  by  reason  of  his  genial  and  affable  disposition, 
but  also  by  his  apparent  and  deliberate  sincerity.  And 
while  it  was  true  that  she  had  determined  upon  a 
method  which  was  originally  intended  to  redound  to 
her  own  advantage,  she  soon  learned  that  she  was  play- 
ing with  a  boomerang  which  soon  put  her  upon  the  de- 
fensive against  the  very  strategy  which  she  had  herself 
directly  planned. 

He  was  not  sincere  in  his  protestations  of  admira- 
tion; that  she  perceived  immediately.  But  she  was 
resolved  to  let  him  think  that  she  believed  him  in  order 
that  she  might  discover  his  true  intents  and  purposes. 
Her  knowledge  of  human  nature  was  sufficient  to  en- 
able her  to  conclude  that  one  cannot  unite  the  incom- 
patible elements  of  truth  and  deception,  the  discern- 
ment of  reality  and  the  enjoyment  of  fiction  for  any 
great  length  of  time.  The  reality  is  bound  to  appear. 

For  this  reason  she  was  not  disposed  to  dismiss  him 
at  once  but  rather  to  allow  him  to  call  and  see  her 
frequently,  if  need  be,  until  she  had  been  thoroughly 
satisfied  as  to  his  true  character.  Nevertheless  she 
sensed,  at  this  very  moment,  that  she  was  playing  with 
a  skillful  adversary,  one  thoroughly  versed  in  the  game 
of  diplomacy,  against  whom  she  would  be  called  upon 
to  employ  every  manner  of  weapon  at  her  command. 
She  realized  the  weight  of  the  foe,  and  thought  she 
understood  his  tactics.  So  she  accepted  the  challenge. 

"You  are  interested  in  Captain  Meagher?"  he  asked 
serenely. 

There  was  a  pause.  Marjorie  looked  slightly  per- 
turbed. 

"Well,"  she  confessed,  "there  is  this  much  about 
him.  I  chanced  to  know  the  details  of  the  offense  with 


THE  LOYALIST  129 

which  he  has  been  charged  and  I  am  naturally  inter- 
ested to  learn  the  result  of  his  trial." 

"He  may  be  found  guilty,"  he  quietly  announced. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"The  evidence  was  wholly  against  him." 

"And  there  was  no  testimony  to  the  effect  that  Colo- 
nel Forrest  was  somewhat  intoxicated,  or  that  he  spoke 
disparaging  words  against  the  Captain's  co-religion- 
ists, or  that  he  attacked  the  character  of  the  Com- 
mander-in-chief?" 

"There  was  to  some  extent,  but  it  did  not  seem  to 
make  any  impression." 

"I  presume  that  you  know  the  reason." 

Her  eyes  gleamed  a  little. 

"Why?" 

There  was  a  pause. 

"The  verdict  has  not  been  given.  I  shall  be  pleased 
to  inform  you  of  it  at  the  earliest  opportunity." 

"Thank  you.  I  shall  be  delighted.  But  let's  not 
talk  about  it  any  more,"  she  added.  "Let's  leave  it." 

Mr.  Anderson  smiled. 

II 

It  was  perhaps  an  hour  after  dawn  that  Stephen 
awoke  for  about  the  third  or  fourth  time  that  night; 
for  the  conflict  still  surged  within  him  and  would  give 
him  no  peace.  And,  as  he  lay  there,  awake  in  an  in- 
stant, staring  into  the  brightness  of  the  morn,  once 
more  weighing  the  mysterious  disclosures  of  the  eve- 
ning, swayed  by  the  desire  for  action  at  one  moment, 
overcome  with  sadness  at  the  next,  the  thought  of  the 
impending  verdict  of  his  trial  occurred  at  him  and 
made  him  rise  very  hurriedly. 


130  THE  LOYALIST 

He  was  an  early  arrival  at  Headquarters.  There 
had  been  several  matters  disposed  of  during  the  pre- 
ceding day  and  the  verdicts  would  be  announced  to- 
gether. The  room  where  the  court  was  being  held 
was  already  stirring  with  commotion;  his  judge-advo- 
cate was  there,  as  was  Colonel  Forrest,  Mr.  Anderson, 
several  members  of  the  General's  staff,  and  Mr.  Alli- 
son, who  had  sought  entry  to  learn  the  decision.  Sud- 
denly a  dull  solemn  silence  settled  over  all  as  the 
members  of  the  court  filed  slowly  into  the  room. 

They  took  their  places  with  their  usual  dignity,  and 
began  to  dispose  of  the  several  cases  in  their  turn.4 
When  that  of  Captain  Meagher  was  reached  Stephen 
was  ordered  to  appear  before  the  court  to  hear  his 
sentence. 

He  took  his  place  before  them  with  perfect  calm- 
ness. He  observed  that  not  one  of  them  ventured  to 
meet  his  eye  as  he  awaited  their  utterance. 

They  found  that  he  was  not  justified  in  making  the 
attack  upon  a  superior  officer,  notwithstanding  the 
alleged  cause  for  provocation,  and  that  he  was  im- 
prudent in  his  action,  yet  because  of  his  good  char- 
acter, as  testified  to  by  his  superior  officers,  because  of 
the  mitigating  circumstances  which  had  been  brought 
to  light  by  the  testimony  of  the  witnesses  during  the 
course  of  the  trial  and  because  the  act  had  been  com- 
mitted without  malice  or  criminal  intent,  he  was  found 
not  guilty  of  any  violation  of  the  Articles  of  War,  but 
imprudent  in  his  action,  for  which  cause  he  had  been 
sentenced  to  receive  a  reprimand  from  the  Military 
Governor. 

Stephen  spoke  not  a  word  to  any  one  as  he  made  his 
way  back  to  his  seat.  Why  could  they  not  have  given 
him  a  clear  verdict?  Either  he  was  guilty  or  he  was 


THE  LOYALIST  131 

not  guilty.  He  could  not  be  misled  by  the  sugary 
phrases  in  which  the  vote  of  censure  had  been  couched. 
The  court  had  been  against  him  from  the  start. 

At  any  rate,  he  thought,  the  reprimand  would  be 
only  a  matter  of  form.  Its  execution  lay  wholly  with 
him  who  was  to  administer  it.  The  court  could  not,  by 
law,  indicate  its  severity,  nor  its  lenity,  nor  indeed  add 
anything  in  regard  to  its  execution,  save  to  direct  that 
it  should  be  administered  by  the  commander  who  con- 
vened the  court.  And  while  it  was  undoubtedly  the 
general  intention  of  the  court-martial  to  impose  a  mild 
punishment,  yet  the  quality  of  the  reprimand  was  left 
entirely  to  the  discretion  of  the  authority  commissioned 
to  utter  it. 

When  Stephen  appeared  before  the  Military  Gov- 
ernor at  the  termination  of  the  business  of  the  day,  he 
was  seized  with  a  great  fury,  one  of  those  angers 
which,  for  a  while,  poison  the  air  without  obscuring 
the  mind.  There  was  an  unkind  look  on  the  face  of  the 
Governor,  which  he  did  not  like  and  which  indicated 
to  him  that  all  would  not  be  pleasant.  He  bowed  his 
head  in  answer  to  his  name. 

"Captain  Meagher,"  the  Governor  began.  "You 
have  been  found  guilty  by  the  Regimental  Court-Mar- 
tial  of  an  action  which  was  highly  imprudent.  You 
have  been  led  perhaps  by  an  infatuate  zeal  in  behalf 
of  those,  whom  you  term  your  co-religionists,  to  the 
committal  of  an  offense  upon  the  person  of  your  supe- 
rior officer.  It  is  because  of  this  fact  that  I  find  it  my 
sad  duty  to  reprimand  you  severely  for  your  misguided 
ardor  and  to  admonish  you,  together  with  the  other 
members  of  your  sect,  of  whom  an  unfair  representa- 
tion is  already  found  in  the  halls  of  our  Congress  and 
in  the  ranks  of  our  forces,  lest  similar  outbreaks  occur 


132  THE  LOYALIST 

again.  Did  you  but  know  that  this  eye  only  lately 
saw  the  members  of  that  same  Congress  at  Mass  for 
the  soul  of  a  Roman  Catholic  in  purgatory,  and  par- 
ticipating in  the  rites  of  a  Church  against  whose  anti- 
Christian  corruptions  your  pious  ancestors  would  have 
witnessed  with  their  blood?  The  army  must  not 
witness  similar  outbreaks  of  religious  zeal  in  the 
future." 

He  finished.     Stephen  left  the  room  without  a  word, 
turned  on  his  heel  and  made  his  way  down  the  street. 


Ill 

Nature  is  a  great  restorer  when  she  pours  into  the 
gaping  wounds  of  the  jaded  system  the  oil  and  wine 
of  repose.  Divine  grace  administers  the  same  nar- 
cotic to  the  soul  crushed  by  torture  and  anguish.  It  is 
then  that  tears  are  dried,  and  that  afflictions  and 
crosses  become  sweet. 

Desolation,  a  very  lonely  desolation,  and  a  deep  sense 
of  helplessness  filled  the  soul  of  Stephen  as  he  retraced 
his  steps  from  the  court  room.  His  life  seemed  a  great 
burden  to  him,  his  hopes  swallowed  up  in  his  bereave- 
ment. If  he  could  but  remove  his  mind  from  his  tra- 
vail of  disappointments  and  bitterness,  if  his  soul  could 
only  soar  aloft  in  prayer  to  the  realms  of  bliss  and 
repose,  he  might  endure  this  bitter  humiliation.  He 
felt  the  great  need  of  prayer,  humble,  submissive 
prayer.  Oh!  If  he  could  only  pray! 

He  was  invisibly  directed  into  the  little  doorway  of 
St.  Joseph's.  His  feeling  was  like  that  of  the  storm 
tossed  mariner  as  he  securely  steers  for  the  beacon 
light.  The  church  was  nearly  empty,  save  for  a  bare 
half-dozen  people  who  occupied  seats  at  various  inter- 


THE  LOYALIST  133 

vals.  They  were  alone  in  their  contemplation,  as 
Catholics  are  wont  to  be,  before  their  God,  without 
beads  or  prayer-book,  intent  only  upon  the  Divine 
Person  concealed  within  the  tabernacle  walls,  and  an- 
nounced by  the  flickering  red  flame  in  the  little  lamp 
before  the  altar.  Here  he  felt  himself  removed  from 
the  world  and  its  affairs,  as  if  enclosed  in  a  strange 
parenthesis,  set  off  from  all  other  considerations.  And 
straightway,  his  soul  was  carried  off  into  a  calm,  pure, 
lofty  region  of  consolation  and  repose. 

To  the  human  soul,  prayer  is  like  the  beams  of  light 
which  seem  to  connect  sun  and  earth.  It  raises  the 
soul  aloft  and  transports  it  to  another  and  a  better 
world.  There  basking  in  the  light  of  the  divine  pres- 
ence it  is  strengthened  to  meet  the  impending  conflict. 
Nothing  escapes  the  all-seeing  eye  of  God.  He  only 
waits  for  the  prayer  of  his  children  eager  to  grant 
their  requests.  Nothing  is  denied  to  faith  and  love. 
Neither  can  measure  be  set  to  the  divine  bounty. 

"Miserere  mei,  Deus;  secundum  magnam  misericor- 
diam  tuam." — Have  mercy  on  me,  O  God,  accord- 
ing to  Thy  great  mercy." 

Stephen  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  in  an  agony 
of  conflict. 

The  tone  of  the  Military  Governor's  reprimand  had 
left  no  room  for  speculation  as  to  his  true  intents  and 
purposes.  Whatever  rebuke  had  been  administered 
to  him  was  intended  for  the  Catholic  population,  other- 
wise there  was  no  earthly  reason  for  holding  up  to 
reprobation  the  conduct  of  the  body  governing  the 
republic.  The  mere  fact  that  the  Governor  despised 
the  Congress  was  an  unworthy  as  well  as  an  insufficient 
motive  for  the  base  attack. 

The  humiliated  soldier  felt  incapable  of  bearing  the 


i34  THE  LOYALIST 

insult  without  murmuring,  yet  he  chose  to  accept  it 
with  perfect  resignation  and  submission.  For  a  time 
he  had  fought  against  it.  But  in  the  church  he  felt 
seized  by  an  invisible  force.  On  a  sudden  this  invis< 
ible  tension  seemed  to  dissolve  like  a  gray  mist,  hover- 
ing over  a  lake,  and  began  to  give  place  to  a  solemn 
and  tender  sweetness. 

"Miserere  mei  Deus." 

He  sought  refuge  in  the  arms  of  God,  crying  aloud 
to  Him  for  His  mercy.  He  would  give  his  soul  up  to 
prayer  and  commit  his  troubled  spirit  into  the  hands 
of  his  intercessors  before  the  throne  of  Heaven. 

"Accept  my  punishments  for  the  soul  who  is  about 
to  be  released." 

To  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  then,  he  poured  forth 
the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  offering  in  their  behalf 
through  the  intercession  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  the  cross 
which  had  been  imposed  upon  him.  The  injustice  of 
his  trial  which  he  knew,  or  thought  he  knew,  had  been 
tempered  by  the  spirit  of  intolerance,  was  brought 
home  to  him  now  in  full  vigor  by  the  severity  of  his 
reprimand.  He  did  not  deserve  it,  no — he  could  not 
force  himself  to  believe  that  he  did.  Still  he  accepted 
it  generously  though  painfully,  in  behalf  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  his  friends. 

He  besought  them  to  pray  for  him,  that  he  might  the 
more  worthily  endure  his  cross.  He  prayed  for  his 
tormentors  that  they  might  be  not  held  culpable  for 
their  error.  He  entrusted  himself  entirely  into  the 
hands  of  his  departed  ones  and  renewed  with  a  greater 
fervor  his  act  of  consecration. 

"I  beseech  Thee,  O  my  God,  to  accept  and  confirm 
this  offering  for  Thy  honor  and  the  salvation  of  my 
soul.  Amen." 


THE  LOYALIST  135 

He  arose  from  his  pew,  made  a  genuflection  before 
the  Blessed  Sacrament,  pronouncing  as  he  did,  "My 
Lord  and  My  God,"  crossed  himself  with  the  holy 
water,  and  left  the  church. 


IV 

* 

In  the  meantime  an  event  of  rare  importance  had 
occurred  in  the  garden  of  the  Shippen  home.  There, 
in  the  recesses  of  the  tulips  sheltered  behind  the  clus- 
tering hydrangeas,  Peggy  accepted  the  fervent  suit  of 
the  Military  Governor  and  gave  him  her  promise  to 
become  his  bride.  A  few  days  later  the  world  was 
informed  of  the  betrothal  and  nodded  its  head  in  as- 
tonishment, and  opening  its  lips,  sought  relief  in  many 
words. 

The  wheels  of  destiny  began  to  turn. 


PART  TWO 


CHAPTER  I 


It  was  a  hot  October  day. 

A  torrid  wave  generated  somewhere  in  the  far  west, 
and  aided  by  the  prevailing  trade  winds  had  swept  re- 
lentlessly across  the  country,  reaching  the  city  at  a 
most  unusual  time.  It  had  not  come  unheralded,  how- 
ever, for  the  sun  of  yesterday  had  gone  down  a  blaz- 
ing red,  illuminating  the  sky  like  rays  from  a  mighty 
furnace,  and  tinging  the  evening  landscape  with  the 
reddish  and  purplish  hues  of  an  Indian  summer.  And 
what  a  blanket  of  humidity  accompanied  it!  Like  a 
cloak  it  settled  down  upon  the  land,  making  breathing 
laborious  and  driving  every  living  creature  out  of 
doors. 

Jim  Cadwalader  and  his  wife  sat  on  the  lawn,  if 
the  patch  of  brown  grass  to  the  side  of  their  little 
house  could  be  termed  a  lawn,  and  awaited  the  close 
of  the  day.  Three  huge  elms,  motionless  in  the  still 
sunshine  and,  like  all  motionless  things,  adding  to  the 
stillness,  afforded  a  canopy  against  the  burning  rays 
of  the  sun.  What  mattered  it  that  the  cool  shaded 
air  was  infested  with  mosquitoes  and  house-flies  or  that 
the  coarse  grass  was  uneven  and  unkempt,  from  the 
low  mounds  which  ran  all  over  it  or,  from  the  profu- 
sion of  leaves  which  had  here  and  there  fluttered  down 
from  the  great  trees.  For  it  must  be  confessed  that 
neither  Jim  nor  his  wife  had  found  the  time  for  the 

139 


140  THE  LOYALIST 

proper  care  of  the  premises,  or  if  perchance,  they  had 
found  the  time  the  inclination  itself  had  been  wanting. 

"Sumthins  got  t'  turn  up  in  sum  way  'r  other  b'fore 
long.  I  ain't  seen  the  sight  o'  work  here  in  nigh  two 
year." 

"Guess  you  won't  see  it  fur  a  while,"  responded  the 
wife,  from  her  straight-backed  chair,  her  arms  folded, 
her  body  erect. 

"Like  as  not  a  man  'd  starve  t'  death  in  these  here 
times,  with  nuthin'  t'  do." 

Jim  sat  with  his  elbows  resting  upon  his  yellow 
buckskin  breeches,  his  rough  stubby  fingers  interlocked, 
his  small  fiery  eyes  piercing  the  distance  beyond  the 
fields. 

"If  this  business  o'  war  was  through  with,  things 
'd  git  right  agin." 

"But  it  ain't  goin'  t'  be  over,  let  me  tell  you  that." 

They  became  silent. 

Sad  as  was  their  plight,  it  was  no  sadder  than  the 
plight  of  many  of  their  class.  The  horrors  of  a  pro- 
tracted war  had  visited  with  equal  severity  the  dwelling 
places  of  the  rich  and  the  poor.  It  was  not  a  question 
of  the  provision  of  the  sinews  of  war;  tax  had  been 
enacted  of  all  classes  alike.  But  it  did  seem  as  if  the 
angel  of  poverty  had  tarried  the  longer  at  the  door- 
posts of  the  less  opulent  and  had,  in  proportion  to  their 
indigence,  inflicted  the  greater  suffering  and  privation. 
Figiiratively  speaking,  this  was  the  state  of  affairs  with 
Jim's  house. 

Everything  that  could  stimulate,  and  everything  that 
could  gratify  the  propensities  of  a  middle-aged  couple, 
the  blessings  of  health,  the  daily  round  of  occupation, 
the  joys  of  life  and  the  hopes  of  at  length  obtaining 
possession  of  a  little  home,  all  these  and  the  content- 


THE  LOYALIST  141 

ment  of  living,  had  at  once  been  swept  away  from  Jim 
Cadwalader  and  his  wife  by  the  Calamities  of  war. 
They  had  lived  as  many  had  lived  who  have  no  differ- 
ent excuse  to  plead  for  their  pe&ury.  The  wages  of 
their  day's  labor  had  been  their  sole  means  of  support, 
and  when  this  source  of  income  had  vanished,  nothing 
was  left.  In  the  low  and  dingy  rooms  which  they 
called  their  home  there  were  no  articles  of  adornment 
and  many  necessary  for  use  were  wanting.  Sand 
sprinkled  on  the  floor  did  duty  as  a  carpet.  There 
was  no  glass  upon  their  table;  no  china  on  the  cup- 
board; no  prints  on  the  wall.  Matches  were  a  treas- 
ure and  coal  was  never  seen.  Over  a  fire  of  broken 
boxes  and  barrels,  lighted  with  sparks  from  the  flint, 
was  cooked  a  rude  meal  to  be  served  in  pewter  dishes. 
Fresh  meat  was  rarely  tasted — at  most  but  once  a 
week,  and  then  paid  for  at  a  higher  price  than  their 
scanty  means  could  justly  allow. 

"The  way  things  're  goin'  a  pair  o'  boots  '11  soon 
cost  a  man  'most  six  hundr'  dollars.  I  heard  a  man 
say  who  's  good  at  figurin'  out  these  things,  that  it 
now  takes  forty  dollar  bills  t'  make  a  dollar  o'  coin. 
We  can't  stand  that  much  longer." 

"Unless  a  great  blow  is  struck  soon,"  observed 
Nancy. 

"But  it  won't  be  struck.  Washington's  watchin' 
Clinton  from  Morristown.  The  Americans  are  now 
on  the  offensive  an'  Clinton  's  busy  holdin'  New  York. 
The  French  're  here  an'  who  knows  but  they  may 
do  somethin'.  'Twas  too  bad  they  missed  Howe's  army 
when  it  left  here." 

"Were  they  here?" 

"They  were  at  the  capes  when  the  chase  was  over. 
Lord  Howe's  ships  had  gone." 


142  THE  LOYALIST 

Again  there  was  silence. 

"I  guess  Washington  can't  do  much  without  an 
army.  He  has  only  a  handful  an'  I  heard  that  the 
volunteers  won't  stay.  Three  thousan'  o'  them  left 
t'  other  day.  Can't  win  a  war  that  way.  If  they'd 
only  listen  to  Barry  they'd  have  a  navy  now,  an'  if  they 
want  to  catch  Clinton  in  New  York  they'll  need  a 
navy." 

"Is  the  Captain  home?" 

"I  saw  him  t'  other  day.  He  is  goin'  t'  Boston  t' 
command  the  Raleigh,  a  thirty-two  gunner.  But  one's 
no  good.  He  needs  a  fleet." 

"Thank  God!  The  French  have  come.  Peace  is 
here  now." 

"It's  money  we  need  more'n  soldiers.  We  can  git 
an  army  right  here  if  we  could  only  pay  'em.  No  one 
'11  fight  fur  nuthin'.  They're  starvin'  as  much  as  us." 

The  fact  that  the  hopes  of  this  American  couple  had 
suffered  a  partial  collapse,  must  be  attributed  rather  to 
the  internal  state  of  affairs  than  to  the  military  situ- 
ation. While  it  is  true  that  no  great  military  objective 
had  been  gained  as  a  result  of  the  three  years  of  fight- 
ing, yet  the  odds  at  the  present  moment  were  decidedly 
on  the  American  side.  Still  the  country  was  without 
anything  fit  to  be  called  a  general  government.  The 
Articles  of  Confederation,  which  were  intended  to 
establish  a  league  of  friendship  between  the  thirteen 
states,  had  not  yet  been  adopted.  The  Continental 
Congress,  continuing  to  decline  in  reputation  and  capac- 
ity, provoked  a  feeling  of  utter  weariness  and  intense 
depression.  The  energies  and  resources  of  the  people 
were  without  organization. 

Resources  they  had.  There  was  also  a  vigorous 
and  an  animated  spirit  of  patriotism,  but  there  were 


THE  LOYALIST  143 

no  means  of  concentrating  and  utilizing  these  assets. 
It  was  the  general  administrative  paralysis  rather  than 
any  real  poverty  that  tried  the  souls  of  the  colonists. 
They  heartily  approved  of  the  war;  Washington  now 
held  a  higher  place  in  their  hearts  than  he  had  ever 
held  before;  peace  seemed  a  certainty  the  longer  the 
war  endured.  But  they  were  weary  of  the  struggle 
and  handicapped  by  the  internal  condition  of  affairs. 

Jim  and  his  wife  typified  the  members  of  the  poorer 
class,  the  class  upon  whom  the  war  had  descended  with 
all  its  horror  and  cruelty  and  desolation.  Whatever 
scanty  possessions  they  had,  cows,  corn,  wheat  or  flour, 
had  been  seized  by  the  foraging  parties  of  the  oppos- 
ing forces,  while  their  horse  and  wagon  had  been  im- 
pressed into  the  service  of  the  British,  at  the  time  of 
the  evacuation  of  the  city,  to  cart  away  the  stores  and 
provisions.  A  means  of  occupation  had  been  denied 
Jim  during  the  period  of  stagnation  and  what  mere 
existence  could  now  be  eked  out  depended  solely  in 
the  tillage  of  the  land  upon  which  he  dwelled.  Never- 
theless the  Cadwaladers  maintained  their  outward 
cheer  and  apparent  optimism  throughout  it  all  but  still 
they  yearned  inwardly  for  the  day  when  strife  would 
be  no  more. 

"I  can't  see  as  t'  how  we're  goin'  to  git  off  eny  better 
when  this  here  whole  thin's  over.  We're  fightin'  fur 
independence,  but  the  peopul  don't  want  to  change 
their  guver'ment;  Washington  '11  be  king  when  this  is 
over." 

Jim  was  ruminating  aloud,  stripping  with  his  thumb 
nail  the  bark  from  a  small  branch  which  he  had  picked 
from  the  ground. 

"  'Twas  the  Quebec  Act  th'  done  it.  It  was  sup- 
posed to  reestablish  Popery  in  Canada,  and  did  by 


144  THE  LOYALIST 

right.  But  th'  Americans,  and  mostly  those  in  New 
England  who  are  the  worst  kind  of  Dissenters  and 
Whigs  got  skeered  because  they  thought  the  Church  o' 
England  or  the  Church  o'  Rome  'd  be  the  next  thing 
established  in  the  Colonies.  That's  what  brought  on 
the  war." 

"We  all  don't  believe  that.    Some  do ;  but  I  don't." 

"You  don't?"  he  asked,  without  lifting  his  eyes  to 
look  at  her.  "Well  you  kin.  Wasn't  the  first  thing 
they  did  up  in  New  England  to  rush  t'  Canada  t'  cap- 
ture the  country  or  else  t'  form  an  alliance  with  it? 
And  didn't  our  own  Arnold  try  t'  git  revenge  on  it  fur 
not  sidin'  in  with  him  by  plunderin'  th'  homes  of  th' 
peopul  up  there  and  sendin'  the  goods  back  to  Ticon- 
deroga?" 

She  made  no  reply,  but  continued  to  peer  into  the 
distance. 

"And  didn't  our  Congress  send  a  petition  to  King 
George  t'  have  'm  repeal  the  limits  o'  Quebec  and  to 
the  peopul  t'  tell  'm  the  English  Guver'ment  'is  not 
authorized  to  establish  a  religion  fraught  with  sang- 
uary  'r  impius  tenets'?  I  know  'cause  I  read  it." 

"It  makes  no  diff'rence  now.     It's  over." 

"Well  it  shows  the  kind  o'  peopul  here.  They're  so 
afreed  o'  the  Pope." 

She  waved  her  hand  in  a  manner  of  greeting. 

"Who's  that?"  asked  Jim. 

"Marjorie." 

He  turned  sideways  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

Then  he  stood  up. 

II 
That  there  was  more  than  a  grain  of  truth  in  the 


THE  LOYALIST  145 

assertion  of  Jim  Cadwalader  that  the  war  for  Inde- 
pendence had,  like  the  great  rivers  of  the  country, 
many  sources,  cannot  be  gainsaid.  There  were  op- 
pressive tax  laws  as  well  as  restrictions  on  popular 
rights.  There  were  odious  navigation  acts  together 
with  a  host  of  iniquitous,  tyrannical  measures  which 
were  destined  to  arouse  the  ire  of  any  people  however 
loyal.  But  there  were  religious  prejudices  which  were 
likewise  a  moving  cause  of  the  revolt,  a  moving  force 
upon  the  minds  of  the  people  at  large.  And  these  were 
utilized  and  systematized  most  effectively  by  the  active 
malcontents  and  leaders  of  the  strife. 

The  vast  majority  of  the  population  of  the  Colonies 
were  Dissenters,  subjects  of  the  crown  who  disagreed 
with  it  in  matters  of  religious  belief  and  who  had  emi- 
grated thither  to  secure  a  haven  where  they  might 
worship  their  God  according  to  the  dictates  of  their 
own  conscience  rather  than  at  the  dictates  of  a  body 
politic.  The  Puritans  had  sought  refuge  in  Massa- 
chusetts and  Connecticut  where  the  white  spires  of  their 
meeting  houses,  projecting  above  the  angles  of  the 
New  England  hills,  became  indicative  of  Congrega- 
tionalism. Roger  Williams  and  the  Baptists  found  a 
harbor  in  Rhode  Island.  William  Penn  brought  the 
Quaker  colony  to  Pennsylvania.  Captain  Thomas 
Webb  lent  active  measures  to  the  establishment  of 
Methodism  in  New  York  and  in  Maryland,  while  the 
colony  of  Virginia  afforded  protection  to  the  adher- 
ents of  the  Established  Church.  The  country  was  in 
the  main  Protestant,  save  for  the  vestiges  of  Cath- 
olicity left  by  the  Franciscan  and  Jesuit  Missionary 
Fathers,  who  penetrated  the  boundless  wastes  in  an 
heroic  endeavor  to  plant  the  seeds  of  their  faith  in  the 


i46  THE  LOYALIST 

rich  and  fertile  soil  of  the  new  and  unexplored  con- 
tinent. 

Consequently  with  the  passage  of  the  Quebec  Act 
in  1774  a  wave  of  indignation  and  passionate  appre- 
hension swept  the  country  from  the  American  Patriots 
of  Boston  to  the  English  settlements  on  the  west. 
That  large  and  influential  members  of  the  Protestant 
religion  were  being  assailed  and  threatened  with  op- 
pression and  that  the  fear  of  Popery,  recently  re- 
established in  Canada,  became  an  incentive  for  armed 
resistance,  proved  to  be  motives  of  great  concern. 
They  even  reminded  King  George  of  these  calamities 
and  emphatically  declared  themselves  Protestants, 
faithful  to  the  principles  of  1688,  faithful  to  the  ideals 
of  the  "Glorious  Revolution"  against  James  II,  faith- 
ful to  the  House  of  Hanover,  then  seated  on  the 
throne. 

"Can  a  free  government  possibly  exist  with  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church?"  asked  John  Adams  of 
Thomas  Jefferson.  This  simple  question  embodied  in 
concrete  form  the  apprehensions  of  the  country  at 
large,  whose  inhabitants  had  now  become  firmly  con- 
vinced that  King  George,  in  granting  the  Quebec  Bill, 
had  become  a  traitor,  had  broken  his  coronation  oath, 
was  a  Papist  at  heart,  and  was  scheming  to  submit  this 
country  to  the  unconstitutional  power  of  the  English 
monarch.  It  was  not  so  much  a  contest  between  peoples 
as  a  conflict  of  principles,  political  and  religious,  the 
latter  of  which  contributed  the  active  force  that 
brought  on  the  revolt  and  gave  it  power. 


THE  LOYALIST  147 

in 

Strange  to  relate,  there  came  a  decided  reversal  of 
position  after  the  formation  of  the  French  Alliance. 
No  longer  was  the  Catholic  religion  simply  tolerated; 
it  was  openly  professed,  and,  owing  in  a  great  measure 
to  the  unwearied  labors  of  the  Dominican  and  Francis- 
can friars,  made  the  utmost  progress  among  all  ranks 
of  people.  The  fault  of  the  Catholic  population  was 
anything  but  disloyalty,  it  was  found,  and  their  manner 
of  life,  their  absolute  sincerity  in  their  religious  con- 
victions, their  generous  and  altruistic  interest  in  mat- 
ters of  concern  to  the  public  good,  proved  irrefutable 
arguments  against  the  calumnies  and  vilifications  of 
earlier  days.  The  Constitutions  adopted  by  the  several 
states  and  the  laws  passed  to  regulate  the  new  gov- 
ernments show  that  the  principles  of  religious  freedom 
and  equality  had  made  progress  during  the  war  and 
were  to  be  incorporated  as  vital  factors  in  the  shaping 
of  the  destinies  of  the  new  nation. 

The  supreme  importance  of  the  French  Alliance  at 
this  juncture  cannot  be  overestimated.  Coming,  as  it 
did,  at  a  time  when  the  depression  of  the  people  had 
reached  the  lowest  ebb,  when  the  remnant  of  the  army 
of  the  Americans  was  enduring  the  severities  of  the 
winter  season  at  Valley  Forge,  when  the  enemy  was  in 
possession  of  the  fairest  part  of  the  country  together 
with  the  two  most  important  cities,  when  Congress 
could  not  pay  its  bills,  nor  meet  the  national  debt 
which  alone  exceeded  forty  million  dollars, — when  the 
medium  of  exchange  would  not  circulate  because  of  its 
worthlessness,  when  private  debts  could  not  be  col- 
lected and  when  credit  was  generally  prostrated,  the 
Alliance  proved  a  benefit  of  incalculable  value  to  the 


1 48  THE  LOYALIST 

struggling  nation,  not  only  in  the  enormous  resources 
which  it  supplied  to  the  army  but  in  the  general  morale 
of  the  people  which  it  made  buoyant. 

The  capture  of  Burgoyne  and  the  announcement  that 
Lord  North  was  about  to  bring  in  conciliatory  meas- 
ures furnished  convincing  proof  to  France  that  the 
American  Alliance  was  worth  having.  A  treaty  was 
drawn  up  by  virtue  of  which  the  Americans  solemnly 
agreed,  in  consideration  of  armed  support  to  be  fur- 
nished by  France,  never  to  entertain  proposals  of  peace 
with  Great  Britain  until  their  independence  should  be 
acknowledged,  anc^never  to  conclude  a  treaty  of  peace 
except  with  the  concurrence  of  their  new  ally. 

Large  sums  of  mdney  were  at  once  furnished  the 
American  Congress.  A  strong  force  of  trained  sol- 
diers was  sent  to  act  under  Washington's  command. 
A  powerful  fleet  was  soon  to  set  sail  for  American 
wraters  and  the  French  forces  at  home  were  directed  to 
cripple  the  military  power  of  England  and  to  lock  up 
and  neutralize  much  British  energy  which  would  other- 
wise be  directed  against  the  Americans.  Small  wonder 
that  a  new  era  began  to  dawn  for  the  Colonists ! 

When  we  remember  the  anti-Catholic  spirit  of  the 
first  years  of  the  Revolution  and  consider  the  freedom 
of  action  which  came  to  the  Catholics  as  a  consequence 
of  the  French  Alliance,  another  and  a  striking  phase 
of  its  influence  is  revealed.  The  Catholic  priests  hith- 
erto seen  in  the  colonies  had  been  barely  tolerated 
in  the  limited  districts  where  they  labored.  Now  came 
Catholic  chaplains  of  foreign  embassies;  army  and 
navy  chaplains  celebrating  mass  with  pomp  on  the  men- 
of-war  and  in  the  camps  and  cities.  The  French  chap- 
lains were  brought  in  contact  with  all  classes  of  the 
people  in  all  parts  of  the  country  and  the  masses  said 


THE  LOYALIST  149 

in  the  French  lines  were  attended  by  many  who  had 
never  before  witnessed  a  Catholic  ceremony.  Even 
Rhode  Island,  with  a  French  fleet  in  her  waters,  blotted 
from  her  statute-book  a  law  against  Catholics. 

IV 

"What  have  we  here,  Marjorie?"  asked  Jim  as  he 
walked  part  of  the  way  to  meet  her. 

"Just  a  few  ribs  of  pork.  I  thought  that  you  might 
like  them." 

She  gave  Jim  the  basket  and  walked  over  to  Mrs. 
Cadwalader  and  kissed  her. 

"Heaven  bless  you,  Marjorie,"  exclaimed  Nancy  as 
she  took  hold  of  the  girl's  hands  and  held  them. 

"Oh,  thank  you !    But  it  is  nothing,  I  assure  you." 

"You  kin  bet  it  is,"  announced  Jim  as  he  removed 
from  the  basket  a  long  side  of  pork.  "Look  't  that, 
Nancy."  And  he  held  it  up  for  her  observation. 

Marjorie  had  been  accustomed  to  render  some  relief 
to  Jim  and  his  wife  since  the  time  when  reverses  had 
first  visited  them.  Her  good  nature,  as  well  as  her 
consideration  of  the  long  friendship  which  had  existed 
between  the  two  families,  had  prompted  her  to  this 
service.  Jim  would  never  be  in  want  through  any  fault 
of  hers,  yet  she  was  discreet  enough  never  to  proffer 
any  avowed  financial  assistance.  The  mode  she  em- 
ployed was  that  of  an  occasional  visit  in  which  she 
never  failed  to  bring  some  choice  morsel  for  the  table. 

"How's  the  dad?"  asked  Jim. 

"Extremely  well,  thank  you.  He  has  been  talking 
all  day  on  the  failure  of  the  French  to  take  Newport." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Jim,  thoroughly  excited.  "Has 
there  been  news  in  town?" 


150  THE  LOYALIST 

"Haven't  you  heard?    The  fleet  made  an  attack." 

"Where?    What  about  it?" 

"They  tried  to  enter  New  York  to  destroy  the  Brit- 
ish, but  it  was  found,  I  think,  that  they  were  too  large 
for  the  harbor.  So  they  sailed  to  Newport  to  attack 
the  garrison  there." 

"Yeh?" 

"General  Sullivan  operated  on  the  land,  and  the 
French  troops  were  about  to  disembark  to  assist  him. 
But  then  Lord  Howe  arrived  with  his  fleet  and  Count 
d'Estaing  straightway  put  out  to  sea  to  engage  him." 

"And  thrashed  'm " 

"No,"  replied  Marjorie.  "A  great  storm  came  up 
and  each  had  to  save  himself.  From  the  reports  Father 
gave,  General  Sullivan  has  been  left  alone  on  the  island 
and  may  be  fortunate  if  he  is  enabled  to  withdraw  in 
safety." 

"What  ails  that  Count!"  exclaimed  Jim  thoroughly 
aroused.  "I  don't  think  he's  much  good." 

"Now  don't  git  excited,"  interrupted  Nancy. 
"That's  you  all  th'  time.  Just  wait  a  bit." 

"Just  when  we  want  'im  he  leaves  us.  That's  no 
good." 

"Any  more  news,  girl?" 

"No.  Everything  is  quiet  except  for  the  news  we 
received  about  the  regiment  of  Catholic  volunteers  that 
is  being  recruited  in  New  York." 

"In  New  York?    Clinton  is  there." 

"I  know  it.    This  is  a  British  regiment" 

"I  see.    Tryin'  t'  imitate  'The  Congress'  Own?" 

"So  it  seems." 

"And  do  they  think  they  will  git  many  Cath'lics,  or 
that  there  're  enough  o'  them  here?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  Marjorie.     "But  some 


THE  LOYALIST  151 

handbills  have  appeared  in  the  city  which  came  from 
New  York." 

"And  they  want  the  Cath'lics?  What  pay  are  they 
goin'  t'  give?" 

"Four  pounds." 

"That's  a  lot  o'  money  nowadays." 

"That  is  all  I  know  about  it.  I  can't  think  what 
success  they  will  have.  We  are  sure  of  some  loyalists, 
however." 

"I  guess  I'll  hev  to  git  down  town  t'  see  what's  goin' 
on.  Things  were  quiet  fur  so  long  that  I  stayed  pretty 
well  t'  home  here.  What  does  yur  father  think?" 

"He  is  angry,  of  course.    But  he  has  said  little." 

"I  never  saw  anything  like  it.    What'll  come  next?" 

He  folded  his  arms  and  crossed  his  knee. 

An  hour  later  she  stood  at  the  gate  taking  her  leave 
of  Jim  and  Nancy  at  the  termination  of  a  short  but 
pleasant  visit. 

"Keep  a  stout  heart,"  she  was  saying  to  Jim,  "for 
better  days  are  coming." 

"I  know  't,  girl.     Washington  won't  fail." 

"He  is  coming  here  shortly." 

"To  Philadelphia?"  asked  Nancy. 

"Yes.    So  he  instructed  Captain  Meagher." 

"I  hope  he  removes  Arnold." 

"Hardly.  He  is  a  sincere  friend  to  him.  He  wishes 
to  see  Congress." 

"Has  he  been  summon'd?" 

"No  I  Captain  Meagher  intimated  to  me  that  a 
letter  had  been  sent  to  His  Excellency  from  the  former 
chaplain  of  Congress,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Duche,  complain- 
ing that  the  most  respectable  characters  had  withdrawn 
and  were  being  succeeded  by  a  great  majority  of  illib- 
eral and  violent  men.  He  cited  the  fact  that  Maryland 


152  THE  LOYALIST 

had  sent  the  Catholic  Charles  Carroll  of  Carrollton 
instead  of  the  Protestant  Tilghman." 

"Who  is  this  Duche?" 

"I  do  not  know.  But  he  has  since  fled  to  the  Brit- 
ish. He  warmly  counseled  the  abandonment  of  Inde- 
pendence." 

"If  that's  his  style,  he's  no  good.  Will  we  see  the 
Gin'ral?" 

"Perhaps.  Then  again  he  may  come  and  go 
secretly." 

"God  help  the  man,"  breathed  Nancy. 


CHAPTER  II 


"Simply  a  written  statement.  A  public  utterance 
from  you  denouncing  the  Catholics  would  prove  of  in- 
calculable value  to  us." 

John  Anderson  had  been  for  an  hour  or  more  in  the 
company  of  the  Military  Governor.  Seemingly  great 
progress  had  been  made  in  the  recruiting  of  the  regi- 
ment, much  of  which  had,  of  necessity,  been  effected  in 
a  secret  manner,  for  now  the  city  was  under  the  domi- 
nation of  the  Continental  forces.  Anderson  had  made 
the  most  of  his  time  and  was  in  a  fair  way  to  report 
progress  for  the  past  month. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Anderson.  You  know  that  it  would 
be  the  height  of  folly  for  me  to  make  any  such  state- 
ment. I  can  do  no  more  than  I  am  doing.  How  many 
have  you?" 

"Nearly  an  hundred." 

"There  are  several  miserable  Papists  in  Congress. 
If  they  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  resign,  it  would  cre- 
ate a  considerable  impression  upon  the  minds  of  the 
people." 

"I  did  see  Carroll." 

"How  did  he  receive  you?" 

"He  replied  to  me  that  he  had  entered  zealously 
into  the  Revolution  to  obtain  religious  as  well  as  civil 
liberty,  and  he  hoped  that  God  would  grant  that  this 
religious  liberty  would  be  preserved  in  these  states  to 
the  end  of  time." 

153 


i54  THE  LOYALIST 

"Confound  him!    We  cannot  reach  him,  I  suppose." 

"So  it  appears.    He  is  intensely  patriotic." 

"You  have  an  hundred,  you  say?  All  common  folk, 
I  venture.  We  should  have  several  influential  men." 

"But  they  cannot  be  reached.  I  know  well  the  need 
of  a  person  of  influence,  which  thought  urged  me  to 
ask  such  a  statement  from  you." 

He  looked  at  him  savagely. 

"Do  you  think  I'm  a  fool?" 

"  'The  fool  knows  more  in  his  own  house  than  a 
wise  man  does  in  another's.'  I  merely  suggest,  that  is 
all." 

"My  answer  is, — absolutely,  No  I" 

There  was  silence. 

"I  know  that  Roman  Catholic  influence  is  beginning 
to  reveal  itself  in  the  army.  Washington  is  well  dis- 
posed toward  them  and  they  are  good  soldiers.  Time 
was  when  they  were  less  conspicuous;  but  nowadays 
every  fool  legislature  is  throwing  public  offices  open  to 
them  and  soon  France  will  exercise  the  same  control 
over  these  states  as  she  now  wields  across  the  seas." 

"Would  you  be  in  league  with  France?"  asked  An- 
derson with  a  wavering  tremor  in  his  voice. 

"God  knows  how  I  detest  it!  But  I  have  sworn  to 
defend  the  cause  of  my  country  and  I  call  this  shattered 
limb  to  witness  how  well  I  have  spent  myself  in  her 
behalf.  I  once  entertained  the  hope  that  our  efforts 
would  be  crowned  with  success,  nevertheless  I  must 
confess  that  the  more  protracted  grows  the  struggle, 
the  more  the  conviction  is  forced  upon  me  that  our 
cause  is  mistaken,  if  not  entirely  wrong,  and  destined 
to  perish  miserably.  Still,  I  shall  not  countenance  open 
rebellion.  I  could  not." 

"You  will  continue  to  advise  me.     I  am  little  ac- 


THE  LOYALIST  155 

quainted  with  the  city,  you  know,  and  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  avoid  dangerous  risks." 

Arnold  thought  for  a  minute,  his  features  overcast 
by  a  scowl  which  closed  his  eyes  to  the  merest  chinks. 

"I  shall  do  no  more  than  I  have  already  done.  I 
cannot  permit  myself  to  be  entangled.  There  is  too 
much  at  stake." 

He  was  playing  a  dangerous  game,  inspirited  by  no 
genuine  love  for  country  but  by  feelings  of  wounded 
pride.  He  was  urged  on,  not  through  any  fears  of 
personal  safety  but  through  misguided  intimidations 
of  a  foreign  alliance;  not  because  of  any  genuine  desire 
to  aid  or  abet  the  cause  of  the  enemy  but  to  cast 
suspicion  upon  a  certain  unit  within  his  own  ranks.  To 
be  deprived  of  active  duty  in  the  field  was  to  his  warm 
and  impulsive  nature  an  ignominious  calamity.  To 
learn  subsequently  of  the  appointment  of  Gates  to  the 
second  in  command,  the  one  general  whom  he  despised 
and  hated,  was  more  than  his  irritable  temperament 
could  stand.  The  American  cause  now  appeared  hope- 
less to  him,  nevertheless  he  entertained  no  thought  of 
deserting  it.  He  had  performed  his  duty  in  its  behalf, 
as  his  wounded  limb  often  reminded  him,  and  it  was 
only  fitting  that  he,  who  alone  had  destroyed  a  whole 
army  of  the  enemy,  should  be  rewarded  with  due  con- 
sideration. Congress  had  ever  been  unfriendly  to  him 
and  he  had  resented  their  action,  or  their  failure  to 
take  proper  action,  most  bitterly.  Throughout  it  all 
his  personal  feelings  had  guided  to  a  large  extent  his 
faculty  of  judgment,  and  for  that  reason  he  viewed 
with  mistrust  and  suspicion  every  intent  and  purpose, 
however  noble  or  exalted. 

He  had  been  violently  opposed  to  the  alliance  with 
France  from  the  start.  It  was  notorious  that  he  ab- 


156  THE  LOYALIST 

horred  Catholics  and  all  things  Catholic.  To  take  sides 
with  a  Catholic  and  despotic  power  which  had  been  a 
deadly  foe  to  the  colonists  ten  or  twenty  years  before, 
during  the  days  of  the  French  and  Indian  wars,  was  to 
his  mind  a  measure  at  once  unpatriotic  and  indiscreet. 
In  this  also,  he  had  been  actuated  by  his  personal  feel- 
ings more  than  by  the  study  of  the  times.  For  he 
loathed  Popery  and  the  thousand  and  one  macj/ma- 
tions  and  atrocities  which  he  was  accustomed  to  link 
with  the  name. 

The  idea  of  forming  a  regiment  of  Catholic  soldiers 
interested  him  not  in  the  numerical  strength  which 
might  be  afforded  the  enemy  but  in  the  defection  which 
would  be  caused  to  the  American  side.  His  scheme 
lay  in  the  hope  that  the  Catholic  members  of  Con- 
gress would  be  tempted  to  resign.  In  that  event  he 
would  obtain  evident  satisfaction  not  alone  in  the  weak- 
ness to  which  the  governing  body  would  be  exposed  but 
also  in  the  ill  repute  to  which  American  Catholics  and 
their  protestations  of  loyalty  would  fall. 

Arnold  deep  down  in  his  own  heart  knew  that  his 
motives  were  not  unmixed.  He  could  not  accuse  him- 
self of  being  outrageously  mercenary,  yet  he  was 
ashamed  to  be  forced  to  acknowledge  even  to  himself 
that  the  desire  of  gain  was  present  to  his  mind.  His 
debts  were  enormous.  He  entertained  in  a  manner 
and  after  a  style  far  in  excess  of  his  modest  allowance. 
His  dinners  were  the  most  sumptuous  in  the  town;  his 
stable  the  finest;  his  dress  the  richest.  And  no  wonder 
that  his  play,  his  table,  his  balls,  his  concerts,  his  ban- 
quets had  soon  exhausted  his  fortune.  Congress  owed 
him  money,  his  speculations  proved  unfortunate,  his 
privateering  ventures  met  with  disaster.  With  debts 
accumulating  and  creditors  giving  him  no  peace  he 


THE  LOYALIST  157 

turned  to  the  gap  which  he  saw  opening  before  him. 
This  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  despised. 

"About  that  little  matter — how  soon  might  I  be 
favored?"  the  Governor  asked,  rising  from  his  chair 
and  limping  with  his  cane  across  the  room. 

"You  refer  to  the  matter  of  reimbursements?"  An- 
derson asked  nonchalantly. 

"I  do." 

He  gazed  from  the  window  with  his  back  turned  to 
his  visitor. 

"I  shall  draw  an  order  for  you  at  once." 

"You  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind." 

He  looked  fiercely  at  him. 

"You  are  playing  a  clever  game,  are  you  not?  But 
you  have  to  cope  now  with  a  clever  adversary." 

He  walked  deliberately  before  him,  and  continued: 

"Anderson,"  he  said,  "I  want  to  tell  you  I  know 
who  you  are  and  for  what  purpose  you  have  been  sent 
here.  I  know  too  by  whom  you  have  been  sent.  I 
knew  it  before  you  were  here  twenty-four  hours  and  I 
want  to  tell  you  now  before  we  continue  that  we  may 
as  well  understand  each  other  in  a  thorough  manner. 
If  you  desire  my  assistance  you  must  pay  me  well  for 
it.  And  it  must  be  in  legal  tender." 

"Of  course — but — but — the  truth  is  that  I  am  in  no 
way  prepared  to  make  any  offer  now.  I  can  communi- 
cate with  you  in  a  few  days,  or  a  week." 

"Don't  come  here.  You  must  not  be  seen  here  again. 
Send  it  to  me  or  better  still  meet  me." 

"Can  you  trust  the  Shippens?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Why  not  there?" 

"You  mean  to  confer  with  me  there?" 


158  THE  LOYALIST 

"If  it  is  safe,  as  you  say,  where  would  be  more  suit- 
able?'' 

"True.  But  I  must  have  some  money  as  soon  as 
possible.  The  nation  is  bankrupt  and  my  pay  is  long 
overdue.  I  cannot,  however,  persuade  the  creditors 
any  longer.  I  must  have  money." 

"You  shall  have  it.     At  Shippen's  then." 

He  rose  and  walked  directly  to  the  door. 

"Next  week." 

He  shut  the  door  after  him  and  hurried  along  the 
corridor.  As  he  turned  he  came  face  to  face  with  a 
countenance  entirely  familiar  to  him  but  momentarily 
lost  to  his  consciousness  by  its  sudden  and  unexpected 
appearance.  In  a  second,  however,  he  had  recovered 
himself. 

"Captain!     I  am  pleased  indeed." 

He  put  out  his  hand. 

Stephen  thought  for  a  moment.    Then  he  grasped  it. 

"Mr.  Anderson.    What  good  fortune  is  this?" 

"Complimentary.  Simply  paying  my  respects  for 
kindness  rendered." 

"Have  a  care  lest  your  zeal  overwhelm  you." 

Anderson  colored  at  the  allusion. 

"Thank  you.     I  shall  exercise  all  moderation." 

Stephen  watched  him  as  he  moved  away,  deliberat- 
ing hurriedly  on  the  advisability  of  starting  after  him. 
Whatever  his  mission  or  his  purpose,  he  would  not 
learn  in  this  house  certainly,  nor  from  him  nor  from 
Arnold  for  that  matter.  If  he  was  intent  on  securing 
information  concerning  this  man  he  must  do  it  in  a 
surreptitious  manner.  There  was  no  other  method  of 
dealing  with  him,  he  thought,  and  in  view  of  such  cir- 
cumstances he  deemed  it  perfectly  legitimate  to  follow 
him  at  a  safe  distance. 


THE  LOYALIST  159 

The  more  he  thought  over  it  the  more  readily  did 
he  resolve  to  take  action  to  the  end  that  he  might  see 
more  of  him.  Whatever  mischief  was  afoot,  and  he 
had  no  more  than  a  mere  suspicion  that  there  was  mis- 
chief afoot,  must  reveal  itself  sooner  or  later.  His 
object  in  all  probability  had  already  been  accomplished, 
nevertheless  his  errand,  if  he  was  engaged  on  an  er- 
rand, might  be  disclosed.  He  would  follow  him  if 
for  no  other  purpose  than  to  learn  of  his  destination. 

Second  Street  was  now  astir  with  a  lively  procession. 
There,  every  day  when  business  was  over,  when  the 
bank  was  closed,  when  the  exchange  was  deserted, 
crowds  of  seekers  came  to  enjoy  the  air  and  to  display 
their  rich  garments.  There  might  be  found  the  gentle- 
men of  fashion  and  of  means,  with  their  great  three- 
cornered  cocked  hats,  resting  majestically  upon  their 
profusely  powdered  hair  done  up  in  cues,  their  light 
colored  coats,  with  their  diminutive  capes  and  long 
backs,  their  striped  stockings,  pointed  shoes,  and  lead- 
laden  cuffs,  paying  homage  to  the  fair  ladies  of  the 
town.  These,  too,  were  gorgeous  in  their  brocades 
and  taffetas,  luxuriantly  displayed  over  cumbrous 
hoops,  tower-built  hats,  adorned  with  tall  feathers, 
high  wooden  heels  and  fine  satin  petticoats.  It  was 
an  imposing  picture  to  behold  these  gayly  dressed 
damsels  gravely  return  the  salutations  of  their  gal- 
lant admirers  and  courtesy  almost  to  the  ground  before 
them. 

Stephen  searched  deliberately  for  his  man  through- 
out the  length  of  the  crowded  thoroughfare,  standing 
the  while  on  the  topmost  step  of  the  Governor's  Man- 
sion— that  great  old-fashioned  structure  resembling  in 
many  details  a  fortification,  with  its  two  wings  like 
bastions  extending  to  the  rear,  its  spacious  yard  en- 


160  THE  LOYALIST 

closed  with  a  high  wall  and  ornamented  with  two  great 
rows  of  lofty  pine  trees.  It  was  the  most  stately  house 
within  the  confines  of  the  city  and,  with  Christ  Church, 
helped  to  make  Second  Street  one  of  the  aristocratic 
thoroughfares  of  the  town. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  Stephen  discerned  Ander- 
son walking  briskly  in  the  direction  of  Market  Street. 
He  set  off  immediately,  taking  care  to  keep  at  a  safe 
distance  behind  him.  He  met  several  acquaintances, 
to  whom  he  doffed  his  hat  and  returned  their  after- 
noon greeting,  while  he  pursued  his  quest  with  lively 
interest  and  attention.  Market  Street  was  reached, 
and  here  he  was  obliged  to  pause  near  a  shop  window 
lest  he  might  overtake  Anderson,  who  had  halted  to 
exchange  pleasantries  with  a  young  and  attractive 
couple.  On  they  went  again  deliberately  and  persist- 
ently until  at  length  it  began  to  dawn  upon  Stephen 
that  they  were  headed  for  the  Germantown  road,  and 
for  Allison's  house. 

What  strange  relation  was  arising  between  Mar- 
jorie  and  that  man?  Anderson  was  paying  marked  at- 
tention to  her,  he  began  to  muse  to  himself,  too  much 
attention  perhaps,  for  one  whose  whole  existence  was 
clouded  with  a  veil  of  mystery.  Undoubtedly  he  was 
meeting  with  some  encouragement,  if  not  reciprocation 
(perish  the  thought!),  for  he  was  persistent  in  his  at- 
tention. Yet  this  man  was  not  without  charm.  There 
was  something  fascinating  about  him  which  even  Ste- 
phen must  confess  was  compelling.  What  if  she  had 
been  captivated  by  him,  by  his  engaging  personal  quali- 
ties, by  his  prepossessing  appearance,  by  his  habit  of 
gentle  speech,  by  his  dignity  and  his  ease  of  manner! 
His  irritation  was  justifiable. 

There  was  little  doubt  now  as  to  Anderson's  desti- 


THE  LOYALIST  161 

nation.  Plainly  he  was  bent  on  one  purpose.  The  more 
he  walked,  the  more  evident  this  became.  Stephen 
would  be  assured,  however,  and  pursued  his  way  until 
he  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  his  man  turn  into  Alli- 
son's house.  And  not  until  then  did  he  halt.  Turning 
deliberately  he  began  to  retrace  his  steps. 


II 

"This  looks  like  the  kind  of  book.  Has  it  the 
'Largo'?" 

Anderson  sat  on  the  music-stool  before  the  clavi- 
chord turning  over  the  pages  of  a  volume  that  rested 
on  the  rack. 

"Perhaps.  I  scarce  think  I  know  what  it  is.  I  have 
never  heard  it." 

Marjorie  was  nearby.  She  had  been  musing  over 
the  keys,  letting  her  fingers  wander  where  they  would, 
when  he  had  called.  He  would  not  disturb  her  for  all 
the  world,  nevertheless  he  did  yield  to  her  entreaties 
to  take  her  place  on  the  stool. 

"You  have  never  heard  Handel?  The  'Largo'  or 
the  greatest  of  all  oratorios,  his  'Messiah'?" 

"Never!" 

He  did  not  reply  to  this.  Instead  he  broke  into  the 
opening  chords,  the  sweetly  solemn,  majestic  harmony 
of  the  'Largo'.  He  played  it  entirely  from  memory, 
very  slowly,  very  softly  at  first,  until  the  measured 
notes,,  swelling  into  volume,  filled  the  room  in  a  loud 
arpeggio. 

That  is  beautiful,"  she  exclaimed  with  enthusiasm, 
"I  should  have  said  'exquisite'.     May  I  learn  it?" 

"Surely  there  must  be  a  copy  in  the  city.  I  shall 
consider  it  a  favor  to  procure  one  for  you." 


1 62  THE  LOYALIST 

"I  should  be  delighted,  I  am  sure." 

He  played  it  again.  She  regarded  him  from  above. 
It  was  astonishing  to  note  the  perfect  ease  and  grace 
with  which  he  performed.  The  erect  carriage,  the  fine 
cut  of  the  head,  the  delicately  carved  features  became 
the  objects  of  her  attention  in  their  inverse  order,  and 
the  richly  endowed  talents,  with  which  he  was  so  sig-. 
nally  accomplished,  furnished  objects  of  special  con- 
sideration to  her  reflective  soul.  He  was  exceedingly 
fascinating  and  a  dangerous  object  to  pit  against  the 
heart  of  any  woman.  Still  Marjorie  was  shrewd 
enough  to  peer  beneath  his  superficial  qualities,  allow- 
ing herself  to  become  absorbed  in  a  penetrating  study 
of  the  man,  his  character,  his  peculiarities; — so  ab- 
sorbed, in  fact,  that  the  door  behind  her  opened  and 
closed  without  attracting  her  attention. 

"I  must  obtain  that  copy,"  she  announced  as  she 
turned  towards  her  chair. 

"Why,  Father!"  she  exclaimed.  "When  did  you 
come?  Mr.  Anderson,  Father.  You  already  know 
him." 

"Well  met,  my  boy.  You  are  somewhat  of  a  musi- 
cian. I  was  listening." 

"Just  enough  for  my  own  amusement,"  laughed  the 
younger  man.  "I  know  a  few  notes." 

"Be  not  quick  to  believe  him,  Father.  He  plays 
beautifully." 

Mr.  Allison  sat  down. 

"Accomplishments  are  useful  ornaments.  Now- 
adays a  man  succeeds  best  who  can  best  impress. 
People  want  to  see  one's  gifts." 

"The  greatest  of  talents  often  lie  buried.  Pros- 
perity thrives  on  pretense." 


THE  LOYALIST  163 

"True.  I'm  beginning  to  think  that  way  myself,  the 
way  things  're  going." 

"With  the  war?"  he  asked. 

"With  everything.  I  think  Congress  will  fail  to 
realize  its  boasts,  and  Arnold  is  a  huge  pretender, 
and " 

"He  has  lost  favor  with  the  people." 

"Lost  it?  He  never  had  it  from  the  day  he  arrived. 
People  do  not  like  that  sort  of  thing." 

Anderson  watched  him  intently  and  Marjorie 
watched  Anderson. 

"He  may  resign  for  a  command  in  the  army.  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  he  dislikes  his  office." 

"Would  to  God  he  did!  Or  else  go  over  to  the 
other  side." 

Anderson's  head  turned — the  least  little  fraction — 
so  that  Marjorie  could  see  the  flash  light  up  his  eyes. 

"He  could  not  desert  the  cause  now  without  becom- 
ing a  traitor." 

A  pause  followed. 

"Men  of  lofty  patriotism  often  disagree  in  the  man- 
ner of  political  action.  We  have  many  Loyalists 
among  us." 

"Yet  they  are  not  patriots." 

"No  I  They  are  not,  viewed  from  our  standpoint. 
But  every  colony  has  a  different  motive  in  the  war. 
Now  that  some  have  obtained  their  rights,  they  are 
satisfied  with  the  situation.  I  don't  know  but  that  we 
would  be  as  well  off  if  the  present  state  of  affairs  were 
allowed  to  stand." 

"What  do  the  Catholics  of  the  Colonies  think?" 

This  was  a  bold  question,  yet  he  ventured  to  ask  it. 

"We  would  fare  as  well  with  England  as  with  some 
of  our  own,"  answered  Marjorie  decisively. 


164  THE  LOYALIST 

Anderson  looked  at  her  for  a  minute. 

"Never!"  replied  Mr.  Allison  with  emphasis. 

"See  how  Canada  fared,"  insisted  Marjorie. 

"Tush!" 

Anderson  listened  attentively.  Here  was  a  division 
of  opinion  within  the  same  family;  the  father  intensely 
loyal,  the  daughter  somewhat  inclined  to  analysis.  A 
new  light  was  thrown  upon  her  from  this  very  instant 
which  afforded  him  a  very  evident  satisfaction,  a  very 
definite  and  conscious  enjoyment  as  well.  To  have 
discovered  this  mind  of  apparent  candor  and  unaffected 
breadth  was  of  supreme  import  to  him  at  this  critical 
moment.  And  he  felt  assured  that  he  had  met  with  a 
character  of  more  than  ordinary  self-determination 
which  might,  if  tuned  properly,  display  a  capacity  for 
prodigious  possibilities,  for  in  human  nature  he  well 
knew  the  chord  of  self-interest  to  be  ever  responsive 
to  adequate  and  opportune  appeal. 

Marjorie  might  unconsciously  prove  advantageous 
to  him.  It  was  essential  for  the  maturing  of  his  plans 
to  obtain  Catholic  cooperation.  She  was  a  devout 
adherent  and  had  been,  insofar  as  he  had  been  able  to 
discover,  an  ardent  Whig.  True,  he  had  but  few  occa- 
sions to  study  her,  nevertheless  today  had  furnished 
him  with  an  inkling  which  gave  her  greater  breadth  in 
his  eyes  than  he  was  before  conscious  of.  The  remark 
just  made  might  indicate  that  she  favored  foreign  rule 
in  the  interest  of  religious  toleration,  yet  such  a 
declaration  was  by  no  means  decisive.  Still  he  would 
labor  to  this  end  in  the  hope  that  she  might  ultimately 
see  her  way  clear  to  cooperate  with  him  in  his  designs. 

"We  are  losing  vast  numbers  through  the  Alliance," 
volunteered  Anderson. 

"I  suppose  so,"  admitted  Mr.  Allison.     "Many  of 


THE  LOYALIST  165 

the  colonists  cannot  endure  the  thought  of  begging 
assistance  from  a  great  Roman  Catholic  power.  They 
fear,  perhaps,  that  France  will  use  the  opportunity  to 
inflict  on  us  the  worst  form  of  colonialism  and  destroy 
the  Protestant  religion." 

"But  it  isn't  the  Protestants  who  are  deserting," 
persisted  Anderson.  "The  Catholics  are  not  unmind- 
ful of  the  hostile  spirit  displayed  by  the  colonists  in 
the  early  days.  They,  too,  are  casting  different  lots." 

"Not  we.  Every  one  of  us  is  a  Whig.  Some  have 
faltered,  but  we  do  not  want  them." 

"And  yet  the  reports  from  New  York  seem  to  indi- 
cate that  the  recruiting  there  is  meeting  with  success." 

"The  Catholic  regiment?  I'll  wager  that  it  never 
will  exist  except  on  paper.  There  are  no  Tories,  no 
falterers,  no  final  deserters  among  the  American 
Catholics." 

"What  efforts  are  being  made  in  Philadelphia?" 
asked  Marjorie. 

"None — that  I  know  of,"  was  the  grave  reply.  "I 
did  hear,  however,  that  an  opportunity  would  be  given 
those  who  are  desirous  of  enlisting  in  New  York." 

Marjorie  sat  and  watched  him. 

"I  heard  Father  Farmer  was  invited  to  become  its 
chaplain,"  observed  Mr.  Allison. 

"Did  he?" 

"He  did  not.  He  told  me  himself  that  he  wrote  a 
kind  letter  with  a  stern  refusal." 

And  so  they  talked;  talked  into  the  best  part  of  an 
hour,  now  of  the  city's  activities,  now  of  the  Governor, 
now  of  the  success  of  the  campaign,  until  Anderson 
felt  that  he  had  long  overstayed  his  leave. 

"I  am  sorry  to  leave  your  company."  Then  to 
Marjorie,  "At  Shippen's  tomorrow?" 


1 66  THE  LOYALIST 

"Yes.     Will  you  come   for  me?     If  you  won't  I 
daresay  I  shall  meet  you  there." 

"Of  course  I  shall  come.     Please  await  me." 


Ill 

That  there  was  a  state  of  pure  sensation  and  of  gay 
existence  for  Marjorie  in  the  presence  of  this  man, 
she  knew  very  well;  and  while  she  felt  that  she  did  not 
care  for  him,  nevertheless  she  was  conscious  of  a  cer- 
tain subtle  influence  about  him  which  she  was  power- 
less to  define.  It  has  been  said  that  not  all  who  know 
their  mind  know  their  own  heart;  for  the  heart  often 
perceives  and  reasons  in  a  manner  wholly  peculiar  to 
itself.  Marjorie  was  aware  of  this  and  the  utmost 
effort  was  required  of  her  to  respond  solely  to  the  less 
alluring  promptings  of  her  firm  will. 

She  would  allow  him  to  see  her  again  that  she  might 
learn  more  about  him  and  his  strange  origin.  Stephen 
had  suggested  to  her  the  merest  suspicion  concerning 
him.  There  was  the  possibility  that  the  germ  of  this 
suspicion  might  develop, — and  in  her  very  presence. 
The  contingency  was  certainly  equal  to  the  adventure. 

It  was  not  required  that  she  pay  a  formal  call  on 
Peggy-  Already  had  that  been  done,  immediately 
after  the  announcement  of  the  engagement,  when  she 
had  come  to  offer  congratulations  to  the  prospective 
bride  upon  her  enviable  and  happy  fortune.  The  note, 
which  again  had  come  into  her  possession  upon  Ste- 
phen's return  of  it,  whose  contents  were  still  unknown 
to  her,  she  had  restored  to  Peggy,  together  with  a  full 
explanation  of  its  loss  and  its  subsequent  discovery. 
One  phase  of  its  history,  however,  she  had  purposely 
overlooked.  It  might  have  proved  embarrassing  for 


THE  LOYALIST  167 

her  to  relate  how  it  chanced  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
Stephen.  And  inasmuch  as  he  had  made  no  comment 
upon  its  return,  she  was  satisfied  that  the  incident  was 
unworthy  of  the  mention. 

Anderson  called  promptly  on  the  hour  and  found 
her  waiting.  They  left  the  house  at  once  and  by 
mutual  agreement  walked  the  entire  distance.  This 
was  preferable,  for  there  was  no  apparent  haste  to 
reach  their  destination,  and  for  the  present  no  greater 
desire  throbbed  within  them  than  the  company  of 
their  own  selves.  For  they  talked  continually  of 
themselves  and  for  that  reason  could  never  weary  of 
each  other's  company. 

The  country  about  them  was  superb.  The  fields 
stood  straight  in  green  and  gold  on  every  side  of  the 
silvery  road.  Beside  them  as  they  passed,  great  trees 
reared  themselves  aloft  from  the  greensward,  which 
divided  the  road  from  the  footpath,  and  rustled  in 
the  breeze,  allowing  the  afternoon  sunshine  to  reveal 
itself  in  patches  and  glimpses;  and  the  air  between  was 
a  sea  of  subdued  light,  resonant  with  the  liquid  notes 
of  the  robin  and  the  whistle  of  the  quail,  intruders 
upon  the  uniform  tranquillity  of  the  hot  Sunday  after- 
noon. 

"Does  it  not  strike  you  that  there  are  but  few  per- 
sons with  whom  it  is  possible  to  converse  seriously?" 

"Seriously?"  asked  Marjorie.  "What  do  you  call 
seriously?" 

"In  an  intelligent  manner,  together  with  perfect 
ease  and  attention." 

"I  suppose  that  this  is  true  on  account  of  the  great 
want  of  sincerity  among  men." 

"That,  as  well  as  the  impatient  desire  we  possess  of 
intruding  our  own  thoughts  upon  our  hearer  with  little 


1 68  THE  LOYALIST 

or  no  desire  of  listening  to  those  which  he  himself  may 
want  to  express." 

"We  are  sincere  with  no  one  but  ourselves,  don't  you 
think?  The  mere  fact  of  the  entrance  of  a  second 
person  means  that  we  must  try  to  impress  him.  You 
have  said  that  prosperity  thrives  on  pretense." 

"And  I  repeat  it.  But  with  friends  all  guile  and 
dissimulation  ceases.  We  often  praise  the  merits  of 
our  neighbor  in  the  hope  that  he  in  turn  will  praise  us. 
Only  a  few  have  the  humility  and  the  whole-hearted 
simplicity  to  listen  well  and  to  answer  well.  Sincerity 
to  my  mind  is  often  a  snare  to  gain  the  confidence  of 
others." 

There  was  depth  to  his  reasoning,  Marjorie  thought, 
which  was  riddle-like  as  well.  It  was  amazing  to  her 
how  well  he  could  talk  on  any  given  topic,  naturally, 
easily,  seriously,  as  the  case  might  be.  He  never 
seemed  to  assume  the  mastery  of  any  conversation, 
nor  to  talk  with  an  air  of  authority  on  any  subject, 
for  he  was  alive  to  all  topics  and  entered  into  them 
with  the  same  apparent  cleverness  and  animated  inter- 
est. 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  exerted  a  gentle  though 
firm  pressure  on  her  arm,  obliging  her  to  halt  her  steps. 
Surprised,  she  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

There  was  no  response.  Instead,  she  looked  in  the 
direction  of  his  gaze.  Then  she  saw. 

A  large  black  snake  lay  in  graceful  curves  across 
their  path  several  rods  ahead.  Its  head  was  somewhat 
elevated  and  rigid.  Before  it  fluttered  a  small  chicka- 
dee in  a  sort  of  strange,  though  powerless  fascination, 
its  wings  partly  open  in  a  trembling  manner,  its  chirp 
noisy  and  incessant,  its  movement  rapid  and  nervous, 


THE  LOYALIST  169 

as  it  partly  advanced,  partly  retreated  before  its  en- 
chanter. Nearer  and  nearer  it  came,  with  a  great 
scurrying  of  the  feet  and  wings,  towards  the  motionless 
head  of  the  serpent.  Until  Anderson,  picking  a  stone 
from  the  roadside,  threw  a  well-aimed  shot  which 
bounded  over  the  head  of  the  snake,  causing  it  to  turn 
immediately  and  crawl  into  the  recesses  of  the  deep 
underbrush  of  the  adjoining  field.  The  bird,  freed 
from  the  source  of  its  sinister  charm,  flew  out  of  sight 
into  safety. 

"Thank  God!"  Marjorie  breathed.  "I  was  greatly 
frightened." 

"Nothing  would  have  saved  that  bird,"  was  the 
reply.  "It  already  was  powerless." 

Marjorie  did  not  answer  to  this,  but  became  very 
quiet  and  pensive.  They  walked  on  in  silence. 

Nearing  the  home  of  Peggy,  they  beheld  General 
Arnold  seated  before  them  on  the  spacious  veranda  in 
the  company  of  his  betrothed.  Here  was  intrusion 
with  a  vengeance,  Marjorie  thought,  but  the  beaming 
face  and  the  welcoming  expression  soon  dispelled  her 
fears. 

"Miss  Shippen,"  Anderson  said,  as  he  advanced 
immediately  toward  her  to  seize  her  hand,  "allow  me 
to  offer  my  tender  though  tardy  congratulations.  It 
was  with  the  greatest  joy  that  I  listened  to  the  happy 


announcement." 


"You  are  most  kind,  Mr.  Anderson,  and  I  thank 
you  for  it,"  was  the  soft  response. 

"And  you,  General,"  said  Marjorie.  "Let  me  con- 
gratulate you  upon  your  excellent  choice." 

"Rather  upon  my  good  fortune,"  the  Governor  re- 
plied with  a  generous  smile. 

Peggy  blushed  at  the  compliment. 


170  THE  LOYALIST 

"How  long  before  we  may  be  enabled  to  offer  sim- 
ilar greetings  to  you?"  he  asked  of  Mr.  Anderson, 
who  was  assisting  Marjorie  into  a  chair  by  the  side  of 
Peggy. 

uOhl  Love  rules  his  own  kingdom  and  I  am  an 
alien." 

He  drew  himself  near  to  the  Governor  and  the  con- 
versation turned  naturally  and  generally  to  the  de- 
licious evening.  The  very  atmosphere  thrilled  with 
romance. 


CHAPTER  III 


Stephen  was  sitting  in  his  room,  his  feet  crossed  on 
a  foot-rest  before  him,  his  eyes  gazing  into  the  side 
street  that  opened  full  before  his  window.  He  had 
been  reading  a  number  of  dispatches  and  letters  piled 
in  a  small  heap  in  his  lap;  but  little  by  little  had  laid 
them  down  again  to  allow  his  mind  to  run  into  reflec- 
tion and  study.  And  so  he  sat  and  smoked. 

It  seemed  incredible  that  events  of  prime  importance 
were  transpiring  in  the  city  and  that  the  crisis  was  so 
soon  upon  him.  For  nearly  three  months  he  had  been 
accumulating,  methodically  and  deliberately,  a  chain  of 
incriminating  evidence  around  the  Military  Governor 
and  John  Anderson,  still  he  was  utterly  unaware  of  its 
amazing  scope  and  magnitude.  Perfidy  was  at  work 
all  around  him  and  he  was  powerless  to  interfere;  for 
the  intrigue  had  yet  to  reach  that  point  where  convic- 
tion could  be  assured.  Nevertheless,  he  continued  to 
advance  step  by  step  with  the  events,  and  sensed  keenly 
the  while,  the  tension  which  was  beginning  to  exist  but 
which  he  could  not  very  well  point  out. 

He  had  kept  himself  fully  informed  of  the  progress 
of  affairs  in  New  York,  where  the  recruiting  was  being 
accomplished  in  an  undisguised  manner.  The  real 
facts,  however,  were  being  adroitly  concealed  from 
the  bulk  of  the  populace.  Information  of  a  surprising 

171 


172  THE  LOYALIST 

nature  had  been  forwarded  to  him  from  time  to  time 
in  the  form  of  dispatches  and  letters,  all  of  which  now 
lay  before  him,  while  a  certain  Sergeant  Griffin  had 
already  been  detailed  by  him  to  carry  out  the  more 
hazardous  work  of  espionage  in  the  city  of  the  enemy. 
The  latter  was  in  a  fair  Vay  to  report  now  on  the 
progress  of  the  work  and  had  returned  to  Philadelphia 
for  this  very  purpose. 

Irish  Catholics  had  been  found  in  the  British  Army 
at  New  York,  but  they  had  been  impressed  into  the 
service.  Sergeant  Griffin  had  spoken  to  many  deserters 
who  avowed  that  they  had  been  brought  to  the  colonies 
against  their  own  will,  declaring  that  they  had  been 
"compelled  to  go  on  board  the  transports  where  they 
were  chained  down  to  the  ring-bolts  and  fed  with 
bread  and  water;  several  of  whom  suffered" this  torture 
before  they  could  be  made  to  yield  and  sign  the  papers 
of  enlistment."  In  confirmation  of  this  declaration, 
he  had  in  his  lap  a  letter  written  to  General  Washing- 
ton by  Arthur  Lee,  June  15,  1777,  which  read:  "Every 
man  of  a  regiment  raised  in  Ireland  last  year  had  to  be 
shipped  off  tied  and  bound,  and  most  certainly  they  will 
desert  more  than  any  troops  whatsoever."  To  cor- 
roborate this  claim  he  had  obtained  several  clippings, 
advertisements  that  had  appeared  in  the  New  York 
newspapers,  offering  rewards  for  the  apprehension  of 
Irish  soldiers  who  had  deserted  to  the  rebels. 

The  same  methods  he  learned  were  now  being  em- 
ployed in  the  recruiting  of  the  Catholic  regiment. 
Blackmail  had  been  resorted  to  with  splendid  results. 
In  several  instances  enormous  debts  had  been  liqui- 
dated in  favor  of  the  recruits.  Even  commissions  in 
the  army  of  His  Majesty  had  been  offered  as  a  bounty. 
There  was  success,  if  the  few  hundred  faces  in  the 


THE  LOYALIST  173 

ranks  could  be  reckoned  as  a  fair  catch,  yet  the  meth- 
ods of  recruiting  did  not  begin  to  justify  the  fewness 
of  the  numbers. 

Just  how  this  idea  had  taken  root,  he  was  at  a  loss 
to  discover.  Certainly  not  from  the  disloyalty  mani- 
fested by  the  Catholic  population  during  the  war.  The 
exploits  of  the  famous  "Congress'  Own"  Regiments 
might,  he  thought,  have  contributed  much  to  the  en- 
emy's scheme.  It  was  commonly  known  that  two  regi- 
ments of  Catholics  from  Canada,  raised  in  that  north- 
ern province  during  the  winter  of  1775-76,  had  done 
valiant  service  against  the  British.  A  great  number 
of  the  Canadian  population  had  welcomed  the  patriots 
under  Generals  Schuyler,  Montgomery  and  Arnold 
upon  their  attempted  invasion  of  the  country,  and  had 
given  much  assistance  towards  the  success  of  their 
operations.  Inasmuch  as  many  had  sought  enlistment 
in  the  ranks  as  volunteers,,  an  opportunity  was  fur- 
nished them  by  an  act  of  Congress  on  January  20, 
1776,  authorizing  the  formation  of  two  Canadian  regi- 
ments of  soldiers  to  be  known  as  "Congress'  Own." 
The  First  was  organized  by  Colonel  James  Living- 
ston; the  Second  by  Colonel  Moses  Hazen.  Both  of 
these  regiments  continued  in  active  service  for  the 
duration  of  the  war,  and  both  obtained  a  vote  of 
thanks  from  the  American  Congress  upon  its  termina- 
tion. 

Herein,  then,  must  lay  the  germ  of  the  project  of 
the  British  Regiment  of  Roman  Catholic  Volunteers. 

He  sat  and  considered. 

"You  tell  me,  then,"  he  said  quietly,  "that  this  is 
the  state  of  affairs  in  New  York." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  soldier. 

There  was  a  further  silence. 


174  THE  LOYALIST 

II 

The  progress  of  the  work  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia 
had  been  less  evident  to  him.  Certain  it  was  that  An- 
derson was  directing  his  undivided  attention  to  the 
furtherance  of  the  plan,  for  which  task  he  had  been 
admirably  endowed  by  Nature.  That  Arnold,  too, 
was  greatly  interested  in  the  success  of  the  plot,  he 
already  suspected,  but  in  this  he  had  no  more  than  a 
suspicion,  for  he  could  not  discover  the  least  incrim- 
inating objective  evidence  against  him.  There  were 
several  whose  names  had  been  associated  with  the 
work;  yet  these,  too,  had  revealed  nothing,  when  con- 
fronted with  a  direct  question.  And  whatever  influ- 
ence he  might  have  had,  whatever  lurking  suspicions 
he  might  have  accumulated  from  the  contributory  de- 
tails, these  when  simmered  down  amounted  to  little  or 
nothing.  The  plan  had  not  progressed  to  the  extent 
required.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  await  fur- 
ther developments. 

This  man  Anderson  was  ingenuous.  The  most 
striking  characteristic  about  him,  that  towards  which 
and  in  support  of  which  every  energy  and  every  talent 
had  been  schooled  and  bent,  was  an  intrepid  courage. 
A  vast  and  complicated  scheme  of  ambition  possessed 
his  whole  soul,  yet  his  disposition  and  address  generally 
appeared  soft  and  humane,  especially  when  no  political 
object  was  at  stake. 

During  the  four  or  five  months  spent  in  the  city,  he 
had  made  a  host  of  friends  among  all  classes  of  people. 
His  agreeable  manner  and  his  fluency  of  speech  at 
once  gained  for  him  the  confidence  even  of  the  most 
phlegmatic.  No  man  was  endowed  with  more  engag- 
ing qualities  for  the  work,  if  it  may  be  assumed  that 


THE  LOYALIST  175 

he  was  engaged  solely  in  the  recruiting  of  a  Tory 
Regiment  from  among  the  supporters  of  the  Whigs. 
Everything  seemed  to  declare  that  he  was  associated 
with  the  work.  And  because  he  was  associated  with  it, 
it  progressed. 

The  names  of  several  who  had  yielded  allegiance  to 
the  opposite  side  were  in  the  hands  of  Stephen.  The 
Major  of  the  new  regiment  was  a  Catholic,  John 
Lynch.  So  were  Lieutenant  Eck,  Lieutenant  Kane, 
and  Quartermaster  Nowland.  These  were  at  present 
in  New  York,  whither  they  had  journeyed  soon  after 
the  British  occupation  of  the  city.  Of  the  hundred- 
odd  volunteers,  who  were  supposed  to  constitute  the 
company,  little  could  be  learned  because  of  the  veil  of 
secrecy  which  had  from  the  very  beginning  enshrouded 
the  whole  movement. 

Pressure  had  been  brought  to  bear  on  several,  it 
was  discovered,  with  the  result  that  there  was  no  alter- 
native left  them  but  to  sign  the  papers  of  enlistment. 
In  this  Anderson  had  been  materially  aided  by  the 
Military  Governor's  intimate  knowledge  of  the  for- 
tunes and  prospects  of  the  bulk  of  the  citizenry.  To 
imply  this,  however,  was  one  thing;  to  prove  it  quite 
another.  For  whatever  strength  the  accusation  might 
bear  in  his  own  mind,  he  could  not  forget  that  it  was 
still  a  mere  suspicion,  which  must  be  endorsed  by  in- 
vestigation if  the  people  were  to  be  convinced.  And 
Stephen  was  unprepared  to  offer  the  results  of  his  in- 
vestigation to  a  populace  which  was  too  indolent  and 
hasty  to  investigate  them  as  facts  and  to  discriminate 
nicely  between  the  shades  of  guilt.  Anderson  was 
loved  and  admired  by  his  countrymen  and  more  espe- 
cially by  his  countrywomen.  Everything,  it  seemed, 
would  be  forgiven  his  youth,  rank  and  genius. 


176  THE  LOYALIST 

Even  Marjorie  had  been  captivated  by  him,  it  ap- 
peared. The  relationship  which  was  beginning  to 
thrive  between  them  he  disliked,  and  some  day  he 
would  make  that  known  to  her.  How  attentive  he  had 
been  to  her  was  easily  recognizable,  but  to  what  degree 
she  returned  this  attention  was  another  matter.  What 
she  thought  of  this  stranger  and  to  what  extent  he  had 
impressed  her,  he  longed  to  know,  for  it  was  weeks 
since  he  had  laid  eyes  on  her;  and  the  last  two  attempts 
made  by  him  to  see  her  had  found  her  in  the  company 
of  Anderson,  once  at  Shippen's,  and  again  on  a  ride 
through  the  country.  True,  he  himself  had  been  ab- 
sent from  town  for  a  brief  time,  immediately  after  his 
court-martial,  when  he  returned  to  headquarters  to 
file  a  report  with  his  Commander-in-chief,  and  the  few 
moments  spent  with  her  upon  his  return  was  the  last 
visit.  Undoubtedly  he  was  a  stranger  to  her  now;  she 
was  absorbed  with  the  other  man. 

Still  Stephen  wished  that  he  might  see  her.  An  in- 
satiable longing  filled  his  whole  soul,  like  the  eternal 
cravings  of  the  heart  for  communion  with  the  Infinite. 
There  was  certain  situations  where  a  man  or  woman 
must  confide  in  some  person  to  obtain  advice  or  sym- 
pathy, or  simply  to  unload  the  soul,  and  there  was  no 
one  more  becoming  to  Stephen  than  this  girl.  She 
understood  him  and  could  alleviate  by  her  sole  pres- 
ence, not  through  any  gift  properly  made,  but  by  that 
which  radiated  from  her  alone,  the  great  weight  which 
threatened  to  overwhelm  his  whole  being.  Simply  to 
converse  with  her  might  constitute  the  prophecy  of  a 
benign  existence. 

He  determined  to  see  her  that  very  evening. 


THE  LOYALIST  177 

in 

"Marjorie,"  said  Stephen,  "of  course  you've  a  per- 
fect right  to  do  exactly  as  you  like.  But,  you  know, 
you  did  ask  my  opinion;  didn't  you?" 

"I  did,"  said  Marjorie,  frowning.     "But  I  disagree 

with  you.    And  I  think  you  do  him  a  grave  injustice." 

i 

She  had  been  seated  in  a  large  comfortable  chair  in 
the  middle  of  the  side  yard  when  he  entered.  A  ball 
of  black  yarn  which,  with  the  aid  of  two  great  needles, 
she  was  industriously  engaged  in  converting  into  an 
article  of  wearing  apparel,  lay  by  her  side.  Indeed,  so 
engrossed  was  she,  that  he  had  opened  and  closed  the 
gate  before  her  attention  was  aroused.  She  rose  imme- 
diately, laying  her  knitting  upon  the  chair,  and  ad- 
vanced to  meet  him. 

"I  haven't  seen  you  in  ages.  Where  have  you 
been?" 

He  looked  at  her. 

"Rather  let  me  ask  that  question,"  was  his  query  by 
way  of  reply.  "Already  twice  have  I  failed  to  find 
you." 

They  walked  together  to  the  chairs;  she  to  her  own, 
he  to  a  smaller  one  that  stood  over  against  them. 

"That  you  called  once,  I  know.     Mother  informed 


me." 


"You  were  similarly  engaged  on  both  occasions." 

He  brought  his  chair  near  to  her. 

"With  Mr.  Anderson?" 

She  smiled  straight  in  his  face. 

"Of  course." 

He,  too,  smiled. 

"Well  I"  then  after  a  pause,  "do  you  object?" 


178  THE  LOYALIST 

He  did  not  answer.  His  fingers  drummed  nervously 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  he  looked  far  up  the  road. 

"You  do  not  like  him?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  now  tell  you.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  myself  have  been  unable  to  form  a 
definite  opinion.  I  may  let  you  know  later.  Not 


now." 


A  deep  sigh  escaped  her. 

"I  should  imagine  you  could  read  a  man  at  first 
sight,"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  never  allowed  myself  that  presumption.  Men 
are  best  discovered  at  intervals.  They  are  most  nat- 
ural when  off  their  guard.  Habit  may  restrain  vice, 
and  passion  obscures  virtue.  I  prefer  to  let  them 
alone." 

She  bit  her  lip,  as  her  manner  was,  and  continued  to 
observe  him.  How  serious  he  was !  The  buoyant, 
tender,  blithesome  disposition  which  characterized  his 
former  self,  had  yielded  to  a  temper  of  saturnine  com- 
plexion, a  mien  of  grave  and  thoughtful  composure. 
He  was  analytic  and  she  began  to  feel  herself  a  simple 
compound  in  the  hands  of  an  expert  chemist. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  caused  you  a  disappointment." 

"Please,  let  me  assure  you  there  is  no  need  of  an 
apology." 

"And  you  were  not  disappointed?" 

A  smile  began  to  play  about  the  corners  of  her  small 
mouth.  She  tried  to  be  humorous. 

"Perhaps.  But  not  to  the  extent  of  requiring  an 
apology." 

"You  might  have  joined  us." 

"You  know  better  than  that." 

"I  mean  it.  Peggy  would  have  been  pleased  to  have 
you." 


THE  LOYALIST  179 

"Did  she  say  so?" 

"No.     Dut  I  know  that  she  would." 

"Alas!"    He  raised  his  arm  in  a  slight  gesture. 

She  was  knitting  now,  talking  as  she  did.  She 
paused  to  raise  her  eyes. 

"I  think  you  dislike  Peggy,"  she  said  with  evident 
emphasis. 

"Why?" 

"I  scarce  know.     My  instinct,  I  suppose." 

"I  distrust  her,  if  that  is  what  you  mean?" 

"Have  you  had  reason?" 

"I  cannot  answer  you  now,  for  which  I  am  very 
sorry.  You  will  find  my  reasoning  correct  at  some 
future  time,  I  hope." 

"Do  you  approve  of  my  friendship  with  her?" 

She  did  not  raise  her  eyes  this  time,  but  allowed 
them  to  remain  fixed  upon  the  needles. 

"It  is  not  mine  to  decide.  You  are  mistress  of  your 
own  destinies." 

Her  face  grew  a  shade  paler,  and  the  look  in  her 
eyes  deepened. 

"I  simply  asked  your  advice,  that  was  all." 

The  words  hit  so  hard  that  he  drew  his  breath.  He 
realized  that  he  had  been  brusque  and  through  his  soul 
there  poured  a  kind  of  anger  first,  then  wounded  pride, 
then  a  sense  of  crushing  pain. 

"I  regret  having  said  that,"  he  tried  to  explain  to 
her.  "But  I  cannot  tell  you  what  is  in  my  mind.  Since 
you  do  ask  me,  I  fear  Peggy  greatly,  but  I  would  not 
say  that  your  friendship  with  her  should  cease.  Not 
at  present,  anyhow." 

"Well,  did  you  approve  of  my  going  there  with  Mr. 
Anderson?" 

"With  him?    No," 


i8o  THE  LOYALIST 

"Can  you  tell  me  the  reason?" 

And  then  he  explained  briefly  to  her  of  his  reasons 
for  disliking  this  man  and  of  the  veil  of  suspicion  and 
of  mystery  with  which  he  was  surrounded.  He  did 
not  think  him  a  suitable  companion  for  her,  and 
wished  for  her  own  good  that  she  would  see  no  more 
of  him. 

There  was  no  reply  to  his  observations.  On  the 
contrary  Marjorie  lapsed  into  a  meditative  silence 
which  seemed  to  grow  deeper  and  deeper  as  the  mo- 
ments passed.  Stephen  watched  her  until  the  suspense 
became  almost  beyond  endurance,  wondering  what 
thoughts  were  coursing  through  her  mind. 

At  length  he  broke  the  silence  with  the  words  re- 
corded at  the  beginning  of  the  chapter;  and  Marjorie 
answered  him  quietly  and  deliberately. 

She  continued  with  her  knitting. 

IV 

A  great  melancholy  fell  upon  him,  if  it  were  indeed 
possible  for  him  to  become  more  dispirited,  against 
which  he  was  powerless  to  contend.  There  was  re- 
vealed to  him  on  the  instant  a  seeming  predilection  on 
the  part  of  Marjorie  for  this  man,  Anderson.  The 
longer  they  conversed,  the  deeper  did  that  conviction 
grow.  This  made  him  careless  and  petulant.  Now  a 
feeling  of  deep  regret  stole  over  him  because  he  had 
been  so  unsympathetic.  In  presence  of  her  feeling  of 
grief  and  disappointment,  his  pity  was  aroused. 

"I  deeply  regret  the  pain  I  have  caused  you,"  he 
said  to  her  quietly  and  kindly.  "It  was  altogether  rude 
of  me." 

She  bit  her  lip  violently,  tremulously,  in  an  effort  to 


THE  LOYALIST  181 

restrain  the  flood  of  emotion  which  surged  within, 
which  threatened  to  burst  forth  with  the  pronunciation 
of  the  merest  syllable. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  fumbled  with  the  knitted  por- 
tion of  her  garment,  running  its  edges  through  her 
fingers. 

"I  had  no  intention  of  speaking  of  him  as  I  did," 
he  went  on.  "I  would  not,  did  you  not  ask  me." 

"I  am  not  offended." 

"Your  composure  reveals  to  me  that  you  have  been 
hurt." 

"I  did  not  mean  that  you  should  know  it." 

"Very  likely.  But  you  could  not  disguise  the  fact. 
I  shall  give  you  the  assurance,  however,  that  the  sub- 
ject shall  not  be  a  topic  for  discussion  by  us  again.  He 
must  not  be  mentioned." 

"Please!    I— I " 

"It  was  solely  for  yourself  that  I  was  concerned. 
Believe  me  when  I  say  this.  Insofar  as  I  myself  am 
concerned,  I  am  wholly  disinterested.  I  thought  you 
desired  to  know  and  I  told  you  as  much  as  it  was 
possible  for  me  to  tell.  You  must  ask  me  no  more." 

"He  has  not  revealed  this  side  of  his  character  to 
me  and  I  have  been  in  his  company  on  several  occa- 
sions. Always  has  he  been  kind,  gentlemanly,  sincere, 
upright." 

Her  eyes  were  centered  full  upon  him,  those  large 
brown  eyes  that  seemed  to  contain  her  whole  being. 
Whether  she  was  gay  or  sad,  jocose  or  sober,  enthu- 
siastic or  despondent,  the  nature  of  her  feelings  could 
be  communicated  solely  by  her  eyes.  She  need  not 
speak;  they  spoke  for  her. 

"You  are  right  in  believing  every  man  virtuous  until 
he  has  proved  himself  otherwise,"  he  replied.  "There 


1 82  THE  LOYALIST 

should  be  one  weight  and  one  measure.  But  I  regulate 
my  intercourse  with  men  by  the  opposite  standard.  I 
distrust  every  man  until  he  has  proved  himself  worthy, 
and  it  was  that  principle  which  guided  me,  undoubt- 
edly, in  my  application  of  it  to  you." 

"Do  you  consider  that  upright?" 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  do  not  form  a  rash 
judgment  of  every  person  I  meet.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
I  arrive  at  no  judgment  at  all.  I  defer  judgment  until 
after  the  investigation,  and  I  beware  of  him  until  this 
investigation  has  been  completed." 

"You  are  then  obliged  to  live  in  a  world  of  sus- 
picion." 

"No.  Rather  in  a  world  of  security.  How  often 
has  the  knave  paraded  under  the  banner  of  innocence! 
The  greatest  thieves  wear  golden  chains." 

"I  could  not  live  after  such  manner." 

She  became  impatient. 

"Were  you  thrown  into  daily  relation  with  the  world 
you  would  soon  learn  the  art  of  discrimination.  The 
trusty  sentinel  lives  a  life  of  suspicion." 

At  length  a  truce  was  silently  proclaimed.  Com- 
posure reigned.  The  unpleasant  episode  had  to  all 
appearances  been  obliterated  from  their  minds.  There 
was  even  a  touch  of  that  old  humor  dancing  in  her 
eyes. 

"Some  one  has  said,"  she  observed,  "that  'suspicion 
is  the  poison  of  friendship.'  ' 

"And  a  Latin  proverb  runs,  'Be  on  such  terms  with 
your  friend  as  if  you  knew  he  may  one  day  become 
your  enemy.'  Friendship,  I  realize,  is  precious  and 
gained  only  after  long  days  of  probation.  The  tough 
fibers  of  the  heart  constitute  its  essence,  not  the  soft 


THE  LOYALIST  1*3 

texture  of  favors  and  dreams.  We  do  not  possess  the 
friends  we  imagine,  for  the  world  is  self-centered." 

"Have  you  no  friends?" 

Now  she  smiled  for  the  second  time,  but  it  was  only 
a  smile  of  humor  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"Only  those  before  whom  I  may  be  sincere." 

He  was  serious,  inclined  to  analysis,  one  might  say. 

"Can  you  expect  to  find  sincerity  in  others  without 
yourself  being  sincere?" 

"No.  But  my  friend  possesses  my  other  soul.  I 
think  aloud  before  him.  It  does  not  matter.  I  reveal 
my  heart  to  him,  share  my  joys,  unburden  my  grief. 
There  is  a  simplicity  and  a  wholesomeness  about  it  all. 
We  are  mutually  sincere." 

"Your  test  is  severe." 

"But  its  fruits  imperishable." 

"I  cannot  adopt  your  method,"  was  the  deliberate 
reply  as  she  began  to  gather  together  her  ball  and 
needles. 

"Let's  leave  it  at  that." 

And  they  left  it. 


Long  after  he  had  gone  she  sat  there  until  it  was 
well  into  the  evening,  until  the  stars  began  to  blink  and 
nod  and  wrap  themselves  in  the  great  cloak  of  the 
night,  as  they  kept  a  silent  vigil  over  the  subdued 
silence  which  had  settled  down  upon  the  vast  earth  and 
herself. 

The  longer  she  sat  and  considered,  the  more  melan- 
choly did  she  become.  Stephen  was  displeased  with 
her  conduct  and  made  no  effort  to  conceal  it,  inflicting 
only  the  greater  wound  by  his  ambiguous  and  incisive 


'i  84  THE  LOYALIST 

remarks.  His  apparent  unconcern  and  indifference  of 
manner  frightened  her,  and  she  saw,  or  she  thought 
she  saw  a  sudden  deprivation  of  that  esteem  with  which 
she  was  vain  enough  to  presuppose  he  was  wont  to 
regard  her.  And  yet  he  was  mistaken,  greatly  mis- 
taken. Furthermore,  he  was  unfair  to  himself  and 
unjust  to  her  in  the  misinterpretation  of  her  behavior. 
His  displeasure  pained  her  beyond  endurance. 

In  her  relations  with  John  Anderson,  she  had  been 
genuinely  sincere  both  with  herself  and  with  Stephen. 
The  latter  had  asked  her  to  help  him;  and  this  she  was 
trying  to  do  in  her  own  way.  That  there  was  some- 
thing suspicious  about  Anderson,  she  knew;  but 
whether  the  cause  lay  in  his  manner  of  action  or  in  the 
possession  of  documentary  evidence,  she  could  not  so 
much  as  conjecture.  What  more  apt  method  could  be 
employed  than  to  associate  with  him  in  the  hope  that 
at  some  time  or  other  important  information  might  be 
imparted  to  her?  She  did  not  intend  to  play  the  part 
of  the  spy;  still  if  that  was  the  role  in  which  she  hoped 
to  find  Anderson,  she  was  ready  to  assume  a  similar 
role  for  the  very  purpose  of  outwitting  him  and  defeat- 
ing him  on  his  own  ground.  If  Stephen  would  only 
trust  her.  Oh,  dear!  And  she  wrung  her  hands  in 
abject  despair. 

Little  by  little  her  experiences  of  the  summer  just 
past  came  before  her  with  a  vividness  which  her  ex- 
perience with  Stephen  served  only  to  intensify.  First, 
there  was  the  night  of  the  Governor's  Ball.  He  had 
come  into  her  life  there,  filling  a  vacancy  not  realized 
before.  Hitherto,  she  had  been  quite  content  in  the 
company  of  almost  any  one,  and  especially  with  those 
of  the  sterner  sex.  But  with  the  advent  of  this  dash- 
ing young  officer  she  began  to  experience  a  set  of  new 


THE  LOYALIST  185 

sensations.  The  incompleteness  of  her  life  was  brought 
before  her. 

He  seemed  to  perfect  her  being,  sharing  her  pleas- 
ures, lessening  her  woes,  consoling  her  heart.  Still, 
there  was  on§  office  that  he  had  failed  to  perform;  he 
was  not  obseqvik^us.  Not  that  he  was  ever  wanting  in 
attention  and  deferential  courtesy,  or  that  he  ever 
failed  to  betray  a  warmth  of  feeling  or  a  generous  de- 
votion; but  his  manner  was  prosaic,  thoroughly  prac- 
tical both  in  action  and  in  expression.  He  spoke  his 
thoughts  directly  and  forcibly.  He  was  never  enthu- 
siastic, never  demonstrative,  never  warm  or  impulsive, 
but  definite,  well-ordered,  positive.  It  was  quite  true 
that  he  was  capable  of  bestowing  service  to  the  point 
of  heroism  when  the  occasion  required,  but  such  a 
quality  was  not  spontaneous,  because  his  heart,  while 
intensely  sympathetic,  appeared  cold  and  absolutely 
opposed  to  any  sort  of  outburst.  He  was  too  prudent, 
too  wise,  too  thoughtful,  it  seemed,  acting  only  when 
sure  of  his  ground,  turning  aside  from  all  obstacles 
liable  to  irritate  or  confuse  him. 

Then  John  Anderson  came  and  initiated  her  into  a 
newer  world.  He  appeared  to  worship  her,  and  tried 
to  make  her  feel  his  devotion  in  his  every  act.  He 
was  gallant,  dignified,  charming,  lavishing  attention 
upon  her  to  the  point  of  prodigality.  He  said  things 
which  were  pleasant  to  hear<  and  equally  as  pleasant 
to  remember.  What  girl  would  not  be  attracted  by 
such  engaging  personal  qualities;  but  Marjorie  decided 
that  he  was  too  much  of  the  Prince  Charming  whose 
gentle  arts  proved  to  be  his  sole  weapons  for  the  major 
encounters  of  life. 

Hence  she  was  not  fascinated  by  his  soft  accomplish- 
ments. He  interested  her,  but  she  readily  perceived 


1 86  THE  LOYALIST 

that  there  was  not  in  him  that  real  depth  which  she 
had  found  in  Stephen.  True,  he  made  her  feel  more 
like  a  superior  being  than  as  a  mere  equal;  he  yielded 
ever  to  her  slightest  whim,  and  did  not  discomfort  her 
with  weighty  arguments.  But  her  acumen  was  such 
that  she  was  enabled  to  penetrate  the  gloss  and  ap- 
praise the  man  at  his  true  value.  The  years  spent  at 
her  mother's  knee,  the  numberless  hours  in  her  father's 
shop  where  she  came  in  contact  with  many  men,  her 
own  temperament,  prudent  by  nature,  enabled  her  to 
perqeive  at  a  glance  the  contrast  between  a  man  of 
great  and  noble  heart  clothed  in  severe  garments,  and 
the  charlatan  garbed  in  the  bright  finery  of  festal  dress. 

And  now  the  boomerang  against  which  she  was  de- 
fending herself  struck  her  from  a  most  unexpected 
angle.  That  Stephen  should  misunderstand  her  mo- 
tives was  preposterous;  yet  there  was  no  other  infer- 
ence to  be  drawn  from  the  tone  of  his  conversation 
during  the  few  distressful  minutes  of  his  last  visit.  In 
all  probability,  he  had  gone  away  laboring  under  the 
hateful  impression  that  she  was  untrue,  that  she  had 
permitted  her  heart  to  be  taken  captive  by  the  first 
knight  errant  who  had  entered  the  lists.  And  what  was 
more,  the  subject  would  never  again  be  alluded  to.  He 
had  promised  that;  and  she  knew  that  he  was  absolute 
in  his  determinations.  His  groundless  displeasure  dis- 
concerted her  greatly. 

Whether  it  became  her  to  take  the  initiative  in  the 
healing  of  the  breach  which  she  felt  growing  wide 
between  them,  or  simply  to  await  the  development  of 
the  course  of  action  she  had  chosen  to  pursue,  now 
became  a  problem  to  her  perplexed  mind.  So  much 
depended  upon  the  view  he  would  take  of  the  whole 
situation  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  understand 


THE  LOYALIST  187 

from  the  very  beginning.  She  would  write  him.  But, 
no !  That  might  be  premature.  She  would  wait  and 
tell  him,  so  great  was  her  assurance  that  all  would  be 
well.  She  would  tell  him  of  her  great  and  impassion- 
ate  desire  to  be  of  assistance  to  him;  she  would  put 
into  words  her  analysis  of  this  man's  character,  this 
man  about  whom  he  himself  had  first  cast  the  veil  of 
suspicion;  she  would  relate  her  experience  with  him. 
She  smiled  to  herself  as  she  contemplated  how  pleased 
he  would  be  once  the  frown  of  bewilderment  had  dis- 
appeared from  his  countenance. 

"Marjorie!     Dost  know  the  hour  is  late?" 
"Yes,  Mother!     I  am  coming  directly." 
It  was  late,  though  she  scarce  knew  it.     Gathering 
her  things,  she  brought  the  chairs  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  IV 


Week  after  week  sped  by,  summer  ripened  into  fall, 
and  fall  faded  into  winter.  All  was  monotony:  the 
bleak  winter  season,  the  shorter  days,  the  longer  eve- 
nings, the  city  settling  down  into  a  period  of  seclusion 
and  social  inaction.  There  would  be  little  of  gayety 
this  year.  No  foreign  visitors  would  be  entertained 
by  the  townsfolk.  There  would  be  no  Mischienza  to 
look  forward  to.  It  would  be  a  lonely  winter  for  the 
fashionable  element,  with  no  solemn  functions,  with  no 
weekly  dancing  assemblies,  with  no  amateur  theatricals 
to  rehearse.  Indeed  were  it  not  for  the  approaching 
marriage  of  Peggy  Shippen  to  the  Military  Governor, 
Philadelphia  would  languish  for  want  of  zest  and  ex- 
citement. 

The  wedding  took  place  at  the  home  of  the  bride  on 
Fourth  Street.  The  elite  of  the  city,  for  the  most  part 
Tories,  were  in  attendance.  Mrs.  Anne  Willing  Mor- 
ris, Mrs.  Bingham — all  the  leaders  were  there.  So 
were  Marjorie,  John  Anderson,  Stephen,  the  Chews 
and  Miss  Franks  from  New  York.  The  reception  was 
brilliant,  eclipsing  anything  of  its  kind  in  the  history  of 
the  social  life  of  the  city,  for  Mrs.  Shippen  had  vowed 
that  the  affair  would  establish  her  definitely  and  for 
all  time  the  leader  of  the  fashionable  set  of  the  town. 

The  center  of  attraction  was  of  course  Peggy;  and 
she  carried  herself  well,  enduring  the  trying  ordeal 

188 


THE  LOYALIST  189 

with  grace  and  composure.  And  if  one  were  to  judge 
by  the  number  and  the  quality  of  the  gifts  which  loaded 
down  one  whole  room,  or  by  the  throng  which  filled 
the  house  to  overflowing,  or  by  the  motley  crowd  which 
surged  without,  impatient  for  one  last  look  at  the 
bride  as  she  stepped  into  the  splendid  coach,  a  more 
popular  couple  was  never  united  in  matrimony.  It 
was  a  great  day  for  all  concerned,  and  none  was  more 
happy  nor  more  radiant  than  Peggy  as  she  sat  back  in 
the  coach  and  looked  into  the  face  of  her  husband  and 
sighed  with  that  contentment  and  complacency  which 
one  experiences  in  the  possession  of  a  priceless  gem. 

Their  homecoming,  after  the  brief  honeymoon,  was 
delightful.  No  longer  would  they  live  in  the  great 
slate  roof  house  on  Second  Street  at  the  corner  of 
Norris  Alley,  but  in  the  more  elegant  old  country  seat 
in  Fairmount,  on  the  Schuylkill, — Mount  Pleasant. 
Since  Arnold  had  purchased  this  great  estate  and  set- 
tled it  immediately  upon  his  bride,  subject  of  course  to 
the  mortgage,  its  furnishings  and  its  appointments 
were  of  her  own  choice  and  taste. 

It  rose  majestically  before  them  on  a  bluff  over- 
looking the  river,  a  courtly  pile  of  colonial  Georgian 
architecture  whose  balustraded  and  hipped  roof  seemed 
to  rear  itself  above  the  neighboring  woodland,  so  as 
to  command  a  magnificent  broad  view  of  the  Schuylkill 
River  and  valley  for  miles  around. 

"There!     See,  General!     Isn't  it  heavenly?" 

She  could  not  conceal  her  joy.  Arnold  looked  and 
smiled  graciously  with  evident  satisfaction  at  the  quiet 
homelike  aspect  of  the  place. 

Peggy  was  on  the  stone  landing  almost  as  soon  as 
she  emerged  from  the  coach, — eager  to  peep  inside, 
anxious  to  sit  at  last  in  her  own  home.  Although  she 


1 90  THE  LOYALIST 

had  already  seen  all  that  there  was  to  see,  and  had 
spent  many  days  previous  to  the  marriage  in  arranging 
and  planning  the  interior  so  as  to  have  all  in  readiness 
for  their  return  on  this  day,  still  she  seemed  to  mani- 
fest a  newer  and  a  livelier  joy,  so  pleasant  and  so  per- 
fect did  all  appeal. 

"Oh,  General!  Isn't  this  just  delicious?"  And 
she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  to  give  him  a  gen- 
erous hug. 

"Are  you  happy  now?"  he  questioned. 

"Perfectly.     Come  let  us  sit  and  enjoy  it." 

She  went  to  the  big  chair  and  began  to  rock  ener- 
getically; but  only  for  a  minute,  for  she  spied  in  the 
corner  of  the  room  the  great  sofa,  and  with  a  sudden 
movement  threw  herself  on  that.  She  was  like  a  small 
boy  with  a  host  of  toys  about  him,  anxious  to  play  with 
all  at  the  same  time,  and  trying  to  give  to  each  the  same 
undivided  attention.  The  massive  candelabra  on  the 
table  attracted  her,  so  she  turned  her  attention  to  that, 
fixing  one  of  its  candles  as  she  neared  it.  Finally,  a 
small  water  color  of  her  father,  which  hung  on  the  wall 
a  little  to  one  side,  appealed  to  her  as  needing  adjust- 
ment. She  paused  to  regard  the  profile  as  she  straight- 
ened it. 

The  General  observed  her  from  the  large  chair  into 
which  he  had  flung  himself  to  rest  after  the  journey, 
following  her  with  his  eyes  as  she  flitted  about  the 
great  drawing-room.  For  the  moment  there  was  no 
object  in  that  space  to  determine  the  angle  of  his  vis- 
ion, save  Peggy,  no  other  objective  reality  to  convey 
any  trace  of  an  image  to  his  imagination  but  that  of 
his  wife.  She  was  the  center,  the  sum-total  of  all  his 
thoughts,  the  vivid  and  appreciable  good  that  regulated 
his  emotions,  that  controlled  his  impulses.  And  the 


THE  LOYALIST  191 

confident  assurance  that  she  was  happy,  reflected  from 
her  very  countenance,  emphasized  by  her  every  gesture 
as  she  hurried  here  and  there  about  the  room  in  joyous 
contemplation  of  the  divers  objects  that  delighted  her 
fancy,  reanimated  him  with  a  rapture  of  ecstasy  which 
he  thought  for  the  moment  impossible  to  corporeal 
beings.  The  mere  pleasure  of  beholding  her  supremely 
happy  was  for  him  a  source  of  whole-souled  bliss, 
illimitable  and  ineffable. 

"Would  you  care  to  dine  now?"  she  asked  of  him  as 
she  approached  his  chair  and  leaned  for  support  on 
its  arms.  "I'll  ask  Cynthia  to  make  ready." 

"Yes,  if  you  will.  That  last  stage  of  the  trip  was 
exhausting." 

And  so  these  two  with  all  the  world  in  their  posses- 
sion, in  each  other's  company,  partook  of  their  first 
meal  together  in  their  own  dining-room,  in  their  own 
private  home. 

II 

"  'Thou  hast  it  now, — king,  Cawdor,  Glamis, 

all '  "  remarked  Arnold  to  his  wife  as  they  made 

their  way  from  the  dining-room  into  the  spacious  hall- 
way that  ran  through  the  house. 

"Yet  it  was  not  foully  played,"  replied  Peggy.  "The 
tourney  was  fair." 

"I  had  thought  of  losing  you." 

"Did  you  but  read  my  heart  aright  at  our  first  meet- 
ing, you  might  have  consoled  yourself  otherwise." 

"It  was  the  fear  of  my  letter;  the  apprehension  of 
its  producing  a  contrary  effect  that  furnished'my  mis- 
giving. I  trembled  over  the  consent  of  your  parents." 

"Dost  know,  too,  that  my  mother  favored  the  match 


i92  THE  LOYALIST 

from  the  start?  In  truth  she  gave  me  every  encour- 
agement, perhaps  awakened  my  soul  to  the  flame." 

"No  matter.  We  are  in  the  morning  of  our  bliss; 
its  sun  is  about  to  remain  fixed.  Wish  for  a  cloudless 
sky." 

They  were  now  in  the  great  drawing-room  which 
ran  the  full  depth  of  the  building,  with  windows  look- 
ing both  east  and  west.  In  the  middle  of  the  great 
side  wall  lodged  a  full-throated  fireplace  above  which 
rose  imposingly  an  elaborately  wrought  overmantel, 
whose  central  panel  was  devoid  of  any  ornamentation. 
The  door  frames  with  their  heavily  molded  pedi- 
ments, the  cornices,  pilasters,  doortrims  and  woodwork 
rich  in  elaboration  of  detail  were  all  distinctive  Geor- 
gian, tempered,  however,  with  much  dignified  restraint 
and  consummate  good  taste. 

"We  can  thank  the  privateer  for  this.  Still  it  was 
a  fair  profit  and  wisely  expended,  wiser  to  my  mind 
than  the  methods  of  Robert  Morris.  At  any  rate  it 
is  the  more  satisfactory." 

"He  has  made  excellent  profits." 

"Nevertheless,  he  has  lost  as  many  as  an  hundred 
and  fifty  vessels.  These  have  affected  his  earnings 
greatly.  Were  he  not  so  generous  to  an  ungrateful 
people,  a  great  part  of  his  loss  might  now  have  been 
retrieved." 

"I  have  heard  it  said,  too,  that  he  alone  has  pro- 
vided the  sinews  of  the  revolt,"  said  Peggy. 

"Unquestionably.  On  one  occasion,  at  a  time  of 
great  want,  I  remember  one  of  his  vessels  arrived  with 
a  cargo  of  stores  and  clothing,  whose  whole  contents 
were  given  to  Washington  without  any  remuneration 
whatsoever.  And  you,  yourself,  remember  that  during 
the  winter  at  Valley  Forge,  just  about  the  time  Howe 


THE  LOYALIST  193 

was  evacuating  the  city,  when  there  were  no  cartridges 
in  the  army  but  those  in  the  men's  boxes,  it  was  he  who 
rose  to  the  emergency  by  giving  all  the  lead  ballast  of 
his  favorite  privateer.  He  has  made  money,  but  he 
has  lost  a  vast  amount.  I  made  money,  too,  just  be- 
fore I  bought  this  house.  And  I  have  lost  money." 

"And  have  been  cheated  of  more." 

"Yes.  Cheated.  More  generosity  from  my  people  I 
I  paid  the  sailors  their  share  of  the  prize  money  of  the 
British  sloop  that  they  as  members  of  the  crew  had 
captured,  that  is,  with  the  help  of  two  other  privateers 
which  came  to  their  assistance.  The  court  allowed  the 
claims  of  the  rival  vessels  but  denied  mine.  I  had 
counted  upon  that  money  but  found  myself  suddenly 
deprived  of  it.  Now  they  are  charging  me  with  having 
illegally  bought  up  the  lawsuit." 

He  was  seated  now  and  lay  back  in  his  chair  with 
his  disabled  limb  propped  upon  a  stool  before  him. 

"They  continue  to  say  horrid  things  about  you.  I 
wish  you  were  done  with  them,"  Peggy  remarked. 

He  removed  his  finely  powdered  periwig  and  ran 
his  heavy  fingers  through  his  dark  hair. 

"I  treat  such  aspersions  with  the  contempt  their  pet- 
tiness deserves.  I  am  still  Military  Governor  of  Phil- 
adelphia and  as  such  am  beholden  to  no  one  save 
Washington.  The  people  have  given  me  nothing  and 
I  have  nothing  to  return  save  bitter  memories." 

"I  wish  we  were  away  from  here!"  she  sighed. 

"Margaret!"  He  never  called  her  Peggy.  He  dis- 
liked it.  "Are  you  not  happy  in  this  home  which  I 
have  provided  for  you?" 

His  eyes  opened  full. 

"It  isn't  that,"  she  replied,  "I  am  afraid  of  Reed." 

"Reed?    He  is  powerless.    He  is  president  of  the 


i94  THE  LOYALIST 

City  Council  which  under  English  law  is,  in  time  of 
peace,  the  superior  governing  body  of  the  people.  But 
this  is  war,  and  he  must  take  second  place.  I  despise 
him." 

Peggy  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"Suppose  that  the  worst  should  happen?"  she  said. 

"But — how — what  can  happen?"  he  repeated. 

"Some  great  calamity." 

"How — what  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"If  you  should  be  removed,  say,  or  transferred  to 
some  less  important  post?" 

A  thought  flashed  into  his  mind. 

"Further  humiliated?" 

"Yes.    What  then?" 

"Why, — I  don't  know.  I  had  thought  of  no  pos- 
sible contingency.  I  wished  for  a  command  in  the  Navy 
and  wrote  to  Washington  to  that  effect;  but  nothing 
came  of  it.  I  suppose  my  increasing  interest  in  domes- 
tic affairs  in  the  city,  as  well  as  my  attentions  to  you, 
caused  me  to  discontinue  the  application.  Then  again, 
I  thought  I  was  fitted  for  the  kind  of  life  led  by  my 
friend  Schuyler  in  New  York  and  had  hoped  to  obtain 
a  grant  of  land  in  the  West  where  I  might  lead  a  re- 
tired life  as  a  good  citizen." 

"I  would  die  in  such  a  place.  The  Indians  would 
massacre  us.  Imagine  me  hunting  buffalo  in  Ohio!" 

Her  face  wore  a  sardonic  smile.  It  was  plain  to  be 
seen  that  she  was  in  a  flippant  mood. 

"Have  you  given  the  matter  a  thought?  Tell  me," 
he  questioned. 

"No !    I  could  not  begin  to  think." 

"Are  you  not  happy?" 

"Happiness  springs  not  from  a  large  fortune,  and  is 
often  obtained  when  often  unexpected.  It  is  neither 


THE  LOYALIST  195 

within  us  nor  without  us  and  only  evident  to  us  by  the 
deliverance  from  evil." 

He  glanced  sharply.     There  was  fire  in  his  eye. 

"I  know  of  what  you  are  thinking.  You  are  dis- 
turbed by  these  persistent  rumors  about  me." 

She  gave  a  little  laugh,  a  chuckle,  in  a  hopeless  man- 
ner. 

"Yes,  I  am.  Go  on."  She  answered  mechanically 
and  fell  back  in  her  chair. 

"You  need  not  be  disturbed.  They  are  groundless, 
I  tell  you.  Simply  engendered  by  spite.  And  I  blame 
partly  the  Papist  Whigs.  Damn  'em." 

"It  isn't  that  alone." 

"That  is  some  of  it.  The  origin  of  the  hostility  to 
me  was  the  closing  of  the  shops  for  a  week  under  an 
order  direct  from  Washington  himself,  and  a  resolu- 
tion of  the  Congress.  Yet  I  was  blamed.  The  next  in- 
cident pounced  upon  by  them  was  my  use  of  the  govern- 
ment wagons  in  moving  stores.  As  you  know  I  had 
this  done  to  revictual  and  supply  the  army.  But  I 
permitted  the  empty  wagons  to  bring  back  stores  from 
the  direction  of  New  York  and  was  charged  with  being 
in  communication  with  the  enemy." 

"Which  would  be  more  praiseworthy." 

He  paid  no  attention  to  her  remark  but  continued: 

"I  was  honest  in  supposing  the  goods  to  be  bona- 
fide  household  goods  belonging  to  non-combatants.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  some  of  the  decorations  at  our  wed- 
ding were  obtained  in  this  manner.  What  followed? 
A  public  complaint." 

"I  know." 

"Then    that   scheming   interloper   Matlackl     You 
know  of  him?" 
'  "I  think  so." 


i9<5  THE  LOYALIST 

"YouVe  heard  of  his  father,  of  course !" 

"No." 

"The  Secretary  to  Reed,  the  President  of  the  Coun- 
cil? Timothy  Matlack?  His  social  aspirations  were 
somewhat  curtailed  by  my  interest  in  public  affairs.  He 
has  borne  me  in  mind  and  evidently  intends  my  ruin." 

"In  that  he  differs  not  from  many  other  so-called 
friends." 

"I  did  all  in  my  power  to  soothe  his  ruffled  feelings 
in  a  long,  considerate  letter  in  answer  to  his  note  of 
grievance.  Only  later  I  learned  that  it  was  his  son 
whose  haughty  nature  had  been  offended." 

"You  were  no  party  to  the  offense.  In  fact  you  knew 
naught  of  it  until  the  episode  had  been  concluded." 

"True,  but  Franks  had  taken  part  in  it,  and  Franks 
was  my  head  aide-de-camp.  It  was  trivial.  He  wanted 
a  barber  and  sent  young  Matlack  who  was  doing  sentry 
duty  at  the  door  to  fetch  one.  Naturally  I  defended 
his  action  in  my  letter  of  reply." 

"I  tell  you,  they  do  not  want  you  here.  Can't  you 
sense  that?  Else  these  charges  would  never  have  been 
uttered.  They  are  mere  pretexts.  They  are  weary  of 
you  and  desire  your  resignation." 

She  talked  rapidly,  violently.  Her  face  assumed  a 
stern  expression. 

He  did  not  reply  but  peered  into  the  distance. 

"The  'American  Fabius',  I  suppose,  is  still  watching 
General  Clinton,"  Peggy  continued. 

"He  has  thrown  a  cordon  about  him  at  New  York. 
With  a  sufficient  force  he  might  take  him." 

"Never!  The  Americans  never  were  a  match  for 
His  Majesty's  well-trained  troops.  The  longer  the 
struggle  endures  the  sooner  this  will  be  learned." 


THE  LOYALIST  197 

"Time  is  with  us,  dear.  The  mother  country  knows 
this." 

She  looked  at  him.  It  was  astonishing  to  her  that  he 
could  be  so  transparent  and  so  unaware  of  it.  Really 
he  was  not  clever. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  she  asked.  "Every  day  our 
lot  grows  worse.  The  troops  perish  from  misery;  they 
are  badly  armed;  scarcely  clothed;  they  need  bread  and 
many  of  them  are  without  arms.  Our  lands  lie  fallow. 
The  education  of  a  generation  has  been  neglected,  a 
loss  that  can  never  be  repaired.  Our  youths  have  been 
dragged  by  the  thousands  from  their  occupations  and 
harvested  by  the  war;  and  those  who  return  have  lost 
their  vigor  or  have  been  mutilated  for  life." 

"You  are  partly  right,"  he  mused.  "America  lost 
the  opportunity  for  reconciliation  immediately  after 
my  victory  at  Saratoga.  Since  then,  as  you  say,  the 
land  has  become  a  waste  of  widows,  beggars  and  or- 
phans. Then  came  the  French  Alliance,  a  sacrifice  of 
the  great  interests,  as  well  as  the  religion  of  this  coun- 
try to  the  biased  views  of  a  proud,  ancient,  crafty  and 
priest-ridden  nation.  I  always  thought  this  a  defensive 
war  until  the  French  joined  in  the  combination.  Now 
I  look  with  disfavor  upon  this  peril  to  our  dominion, 
this  enemy  of  our  faith." 

Peggy  became  interested  immediately.  She  sat 
straight  up  in  her  chair. 

"You  never  spoke  these  thoughts  to  me  before  I" 
she  exclaimed. 

"I  feared  it.  You  are  a  Tory,  at  least  at  heart. 
And  I  knew  that  you  would  only  encourage  me  in  my 
manner  of  thought.  God  knows,  I  am  unable  to  decide 
between  my  perplexities." 

"You  know  how  General  Monk  decided?" 


198  THE  LOYALIST 

"My  God!     He  was  a  traitor!" 

"He  restored  Charles,"  insisted  Peggy. 

"And  sold  his  soul." 

"For  the  Duchy  of  Albemarle." 

"Good  God !  girl,  don't  talk  thoughts  Jike  that,  I — 

I He  has  endured  universal  execration.  It  was 

an  act  of  perfidy."  He  scowled  fiercely.  He  was  in  a 
rage. 

Peggy  smiled.  She  did  not  press  the  subject,  but 
allowed  it  to  drop. 

"My!    How  dark  it  has  become!"  she  exclaimed. 

She  struck  a  light  and  touched  the  wicks  of  the 
candles. 

Ill 

Dizzy  was  the  eminence  to  which  General  Arnold 
and  his  girl  bride  ascended!  On  a  sudden  they  found 
themselves  on  the  highest  pinnacle — the  one  of  military 
fame — with  Gates,  Lee,  Wayne,  Greene  and  many 
other  distinguished  generals  at  their  feet,  the  other  of 
social  prestige  the  observed  of  all  observers !  For  a 
time  Arnold's  caprices  had  been  looked  upon  as  only 
the  flash  and  outbreak  of  that  fiery  mind  which  had 
directed  his  military  genius.  He  attacked  religion;  yet 
in  religious  circles  his  name  was  mentioned  with  fond- 
ness. He  lampooned  Congress;  yet  he  was  condoned 
by  the  Whigs. 

Then  came  the  reaction.  Society  flew  into  a  rage 
with  its  idol.  He  had  been  worshiped  with  an  irra- 
tional idolatry.  He  was  censured  with  an  irrational 
fury.  In  the  first  place  the  position  in  which  he  was 
placed  as  Military  Governor  required  the  exercise  of 
the  utmost  patience  and  tact.  Neither  of  these  quali- 


THE  LOYALIST  199 

ties  did  he  possess.  The  order  to  close  the  shops  caused 
discontent.  People  became  incensed  at  the  sight  of  a 
dictator  interfering  with  their  private  life.  There  was 
thrust  upon  them  in  his  person  the  very  type  that  they 
were  striving  to  expel.  His  manner  of  action  sud- 
denly became  obnoxious. 

What  was  merely  criticism  in  respect  to  his  public 
life,  became  a  violent  passion  respecting  the  affairs  of 
his  private  life.  There  were  many  rumors  of  his  inter- 
course with  the  Tory  element.  Brilliant  functions  were 
arranged,  it  was  said,  with  the  sole  view  of  gaining 
their  friendship  and  good  will.  He  spent  the  major 
portion  of  his  free  time  in  their  company,  nay  more,  he 
had  taken  to  wife  the  most  notorious  of  their  number. 
Small  wonder  was  it  that  his  sentiments  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  war  were  undergoing  a  marked  alteration. 
The  thirst  of  the  political  Whigs  for  vengeance  was 
insatiable. 

Then  he  had  repaired  to  a  mansion,  the  most  elegant 
seat  in  Pennsylvania,  where  he  entertained  in  a  style 
and  after  a  manner  far  in  excess  of  his  means.  A 
coach  and  four  he  maintained  with  the  greatest  osten- 
tation. His  livery  and  appointments  were  extrava- 
gant and  wholly  unbecoming  an  officer  of  a  country  so 
poor  and  struggling.  He  drove  to  town  in  the  com- 
pany of  his  wife  and  paid  every  attention  to  the  aris- 
tocratic leaders  of  the  city.  He  disdained  the  lot  of 
the  common  citizen.  Even  his  head  aide-de-camp  had 
submitted  a  free  man  to  the  indignity  of  fetching  a 
barber  to  shave  him,  an  act  countenanced  by  the  Gen- 
eral himself  in  a  letter  of  reply  to  the  boy's  father. 

His  entertainments  were  frequent,  altogether  too 
frequent  for  the  conservative  instincts  of  the  commun- 
ity. Upon  the  arrival  of  the  French  Ambassador  M. 


200  THE  LOYALIST 

Gerard,  a  grand  banquet  was  tendered  him,  after  which 
he  was  entertained  with  his  entire  suite  for  several 
days  at  Mount  Pleasant.  Foreigners  were  seldom  ab- 
sent from  the  mansion  and  members  of  Congress,  the 
relatives  of  his  wife,  the  titled  gentry  of  Europe  were 
treated  with  marked  and  lavish  attention.  The  visit,  of 
General  Washington  was  an  event  memorable  for  its 
display  and  magnificence,  the  ball  alone  at  the  City 
Tavern  entailing  a  vast  expenditure.  With  Madeira 
selling  at  eight  hundred  pounds  a  pipe  and  other  things 
in  proportion  to  the  depreciation  of  the  paper  cur- 
rency, the  wonder  was  often  expressed  as  to  the  source 
of  so  much  munificence. 

It  was  known  that  General  Arnold  was  not  a  man 
of  wealth.  Whatever  fortune  he  had  amassed  had 
been  obtained  mainly  through  the  profits  accrued  from 
his  privateering  ventures.  The  great  estate  which  he 
now  possessed,  had  been  bought  only  a  few  months 
previous  to  his  marriage  out  of  the  profits  of  one  of 
his  vessels,  just  then  returning  to  port.  He  was  con- 
tinually in  debt,  and  ruin  was  imminent.  Yet  he  was 
living  at  the  rate  of  five  thousand  pounds  a  year. 
Whence  then  came  the  funds? 

He  had  married  a  Tory  wife,  and  presently  it  was 
discovered  that  among  his  bosom  friends,  his  table 
companions,  were  to  be  found  the  enemies  of  America. 
Rumors  began  to  whisper  with  nods  and  shrugs  and 
shakings  of  the  head  that  his  wife  was  imparting  profit- 
able information  to  the  enemy,  and  betimes  the  ques- 
tion was  raised  as  to  who  was  profiting  most.  What 
was  more  natural  than  that  she  who  had  been  the 
toasted  and  lauded  favorite  of  the  British  Officers  when 
they  were  in  possession  of  the  city,  should  now  be  in 
communication  with  them  in  far-away  New  York !  The 


THE  LOYALIST  201 

seeds  of  suspicion  and  ill-will  were  seditiously  sown — 
and  the  yield  was  bound  to  be  luxuriant. 

So  the  days  rolled  into  weeks,  and  the  weeks  clus- 
tered into  months,  and  the  months  fell  into  the  proces- 
sion of  the  seasons,  and  in  the  meantime,  Arnold  and 
his  wife  passed  their  time  in  conjugal  felicity  and  regal 
splendor.  Their  affection  was  constant,  tender  and 
uninterrupted;  and  this  alone  afforded  him  consolation 
and  happiness;  for  his  countrymen  were  in  a  bad  mood 
with  him.  His  wife,  his  home,  his  estate  now  defined 
the  extent  of  his  ambition.  The  world  had  turned 
against  him. 


CHAPTER  V 


A  busier  man  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia  during  the 
winter  and  spring  season  of  '78  than  John  Anderson, 
would  have  been  hard  to  find.  For  weeks  he  had  ap- 
plied himself  with  relentless  energy  to  the  work  before 
him;  for  months  he  had  deprived  himself  of  the  cus- 
tomary rounds  of  pleasure  in  the  interests  of  the  seem- 
ingly gigantic  task  allotted  to  him;  until  at  length,  for 
the  first  time,  he  was  enabled  to  appreciate  to  some 
degree  the  results  of  his  toil.  It  was  now  past  Easter- 
tide and  the  moments  were  hurrying  faster  and  faster 
in  their  haste  towards  the  culmination  of  the  conspiracy 
that  was  forming  little  by  little  in  the  heart  of  the  com- 
munity like  an  abscess  in  the  body  of  a  sick  man. 

Progress  had  been  made  at  New  York  although  it 
was  acknowledged  that  the  recruiting  there  had  fallen 
far  short  of  all  expectations.  Still  it  was  a  much  sim- 
pler matter  to  effect  the  formation  of  such  a  regiment 
where  the  work  could  be  carried  on  openly  and  under 
the  protection  of  General  Clinton;  and  where  no  sym- 
pathizer of  the  colonists,  however  loyal,  would  dare  to 
enter  a  formal  protest  against  the  proceedings.  It  is 
quite  true  that  Catholics  were  divided  there  as  else- 
where; for  not  every  one  lent  his  spontaneous,  com- 
plete, and  energetic  adhesion  to  the  cause  of  American 
independence.  And  who  would  dare  condemn  their  re- 
straint; when  the  memory  of  the  intolerable  and  bitter 

202 


THE  LOYALIST  203 

practices  of  the  early  patriots  was  recalled?  They 
could  not  forget;  and  what  was  more,  many  did  not 
want  to  forget. 

It  was  found  impossible  to  gather  in  the  city,  now 
held  by  the  enemy,  a  thousand  or  more  men  sufficient 
to  compose  a  regiment.  Hence  it  was  necessary  to 
draw  from  the  neighboring  colonies.  Anderson  had 
come  to  Philadelphia  with  this  object  in  view  and,  as 
an  aid  to  his  work,  had  established  himself  immedi- 
ately in  the  graces  of  the  military  authorities.  Quietly, 
privately,  secretly,  he  pursued  his  quest,  seeking  out 
likely  individuals  whom  he  impressed  into  the  service 
of  His  Majesty  with  not  so  much  as  a  scruple  as  to 
means,  fair  or  foul.  Blackmail  he  employed  freely  and 
the  pressure  of  unpaid  debts  reaped  for  him  a  harvest 
of  names. 

The  currency  was  then  worthless  and  the  cost  of 
living  enormous.  He  was  the  odd  individual  who 
could  boast  of  being  free  from  debt,  and  the  common 
jail  and  the  stocks  in  the  market  place  at  Second  and 
High  Streets  were  tireless  in  meting  out  their  punish- 
ments to  the  delinquent  debtors.  Anderson  took  royal 
advantage  of  this  state  of  affairs,  either  by  resolving 
the  debt  in  favor  of  an  enlistment  in  the  company  or 
by  effecting  a  threatened  punishment  on  the  part  of  the 
creditor  unless  his  wishes  were  complied  with.  Many 
recruits  who  otherwise  would  have  rejected  flatly  the 
base  proposition,  were  secured  by  such  means. 

At  length  he  had  registered  about  an  hundred 
names,  drawn  from  all  classes  of  the  city.  The  serv- 
ices of  Father  Farmer  had  been  sought  as  chaplain, 
but  this  worthy  servant  of  God  gently  but  firmly  de- 
clined because  of  the  weight  of  age  and  "several  other 
reasons."  Colonel  Clifton  was  still  in  charge  of  the 


204  THE  LOYALIST 

regiment  but  the  other  officers  were  to  be  Roman  Cath- 
olics and  appointed  by  the  colonels.  A  meeting  for  the 
purpose  of  organization  would  be  held  in  the  Provin- 
cial Hall  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks.  Then  the  com- 
pany would  be  shipped  as  soon  as  possible  to  New 
York  for  incorporation  in  the  regiment  there. 

Anderson  found  General  Arnold  a  ready  and  effec- 
tive instrument  in  the  perfection  of  the  plot.  Not  only 
had  the  latter  supplied  him  with  all  manner  of  infor- 
mation, but  his  authority  had  been  employed  on  more 
than  one  occasion  in  the  matter  of  impressment.  What- 
ever motives  actuated  the  General  were  ascribed  by 
Anderson  solely  to  his  profound  dislike  of  Catholics 
and  all  things  Catholic.  A  further  incentive  to  the 
success  of  the  project  was  furnished  by  the  issuance  of 
a  pass  by  the  Military  Governor  enabling  a  vessel  to 
leave  the  port  of  Philadelphia,  where  it  had  been  tied 
up,  for  New  York,  for  the  purpose  of  transporting  to 
that  city  the  members  of  the  recruited  company.  This 
was,  of  course,  a  violation  of  the  military  code,  but  the 
affair  was  done  so  secretly  that  it  was  known  only  to 
Anderson  and  the  Governor.  The  remote  prepara- 
tions were  now  completed.  All  was  in  readiness  for 
the  meeting  of  the  so-called  volunteers. 

Meanwhile,  Marjorie  had  continued  to  be  an  object 
of  interest  to  the  busy  Anderson,  and  he  had  paid  at- 
tention to  her  with  a  marked  gallantry.  Through  the- 
late  winter  and  early  spring  he  had  been  a  frequent 
visitor  at  her  home  and  had  often  escorted  her  in  pub- 
lic to  the  theater  and  dancing  assemblies.  He  flattered 
himself  that  her  confidence  had  early  been  gained  and 
much  information  helpful  to  his  scheme  had  been  ob- 
tained. He  had  played  his  part  well,  although  on  one 
occasion,  he  had  almost  revealed  himself;  neverthe- 


THE  LOYALIST  205 

less  he  was  completely  satisfied  that  she  not  for  a  mo- 
ment suspected  the  real  purpose  of  his  designs. 

Now  he  felt  obliged  to  hold  one  more  conference 
with  the  Military  Governor,  for  it  was  required  that 
he  know  definitely  the  time  set  for  the  vessel's  de- 
parture. That  was  the  sole  obstacle  to  his  plans,  for 
the  date  of  the  assembly  depended  upon  the  day  of  the 
sailing  of  the  transport.  Arnold  would  know  of  its 
readiness;  its  clearance  was  then  a  matter  of  personal 
convenience. 

And  so,  this  fine  afternoon  in  early  May,  he  resolved 
to  direct  his  steps  in  the  direction  of  Mount  Pleasant 
where  he  would  complete  his  plans.  It  was  a  long  walk 
but  less  attention  would  be  aroused  by  his  going  afoot, 
and  so  he  started  early.  Little  did  he  suspect,  how- 
ever, that  his  every  move  was  being  observed  and  that 
a  pair  of  eyes  had  pursued  him  to  the  very  park,  watch- 
ing him  even  as  he  ascended  the  great  stone  steps  of  the 
mansion. 

He  lifted  the  brass  knocker  and  gave  two  or  three 
slight  taps,  and  even  as  he  did  so  the  blue  eyes  con- 
tinued to  observe  him. 

II 

The  dining-hall  at  Mount  Pleasant  was  such  as  was 
befitting  the  noble  proportions  of  the  mansion.  It  ad- 
joined the  hall  in  opposition  to  the  great  drawing- 
room,  its  eastern  side  terminating  in  an  ell  extension 
from  the  hall  proper  where  a  wide  easy  staircase  with 
a  balustrade  of  gracefully  turned  spindles  ascended  to 
the  second  floor.  It  was  lighted,  not  only  by  the  fire 
that  burned  in  the  reredos  at  the  northern  wall,  but 
also  by  eight  cresset-lamps  and  as  many  candles  set  in 
huge  silver  candelabra  on  the  center  table. 


206  THE  LOYALIST 

Anderson  was  hungry  from  his  long  walk  and  ate 
well.  A  great  roast  goose  reposing  in  a  huge  silver 
platter  was  brought  in  by  the  servants  and  set  before 
them.  There  were  vegetables  of  every  sort,  jellies, 
sweetmeats,  floating  islands,  and  a  dessert  of  fruits, 
raisins  and  almonds.  Madeira  was  drunk  freely  by 
all  without  any  apparent  disadvantage. 

"And  how  were  all  at  home?"  asked  Peggy  when 
they  were  seated.  The  conversation  was  on  general 
topics — for  the  servants  were  coming  in  and  out  with 
the  food. 

ltl  saw  only  your  sister  when  I  called  with  Mar- 
jorie.  Mr.  Shippen  was  away  and  Mrs.  Shippen  had 
a  cold,  a  very  slight  one  I  believe." 

"She  is  susceptible  to  asthmatic  attacks,"  observed 
the  General. 

"Quite!"  replied  Anderson. 

"She  bears  up  remarkably.  I  think  she  has  never 
missed  a  function." 

"Her  will-power  alone,"  replied  Peggy.  "She  can 
surmount  obstacles;  she  has  never  lost  an  opportunity." 

They  lapsed  into  silence,  occupying  themselves  with 
the  delicious  repast.  Sometimes  they  talked  of  this, 
that  and  the  other  quite  freely  and  easily — of  the  so- 
ciety news,  of  the  presence  of  Miss  Franks  at  the  wed- 
ding, of  the  splendor  of  it  all.  Indeed,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  indicate  more  than  a  company  of  old-time 
friends. 

"I  am  ready  to  take  my  charges  along  with  me," 
announced  Anderson  at  length. 

"Hush!  Not  so  loud,"  cautioned  Arnold.  "Later, 
—in  the  park,  we  shall  treat  of  that." 

Then  the  servants  came  again  and  removed  the 
dishes.  After  another  goblet  of  Madeira  they  left  the 


THE  LOYALIST  207 

table,  going  immediately  out  of  doors,  for  it  was  now 
dusk. 

"I  can  do  no  more  with  the  recruiting.  I  have  in 
round  numbers,  an  hundred,"  Anderson  began  when 
they  had  been  seated  in  the  cypress  walk.  The  moon 
was  not  yet  half  way  to  the  zenith  and  lay  a  dull  copper 
color  in  the  eastern  sky,  partially  eclipsed  by  the  chim- 
ney of  the  great  house.  A  solemn  silence,  terrifying 
and  rife  with  mysterious  sensations,  seemed  to  pervade 
the  place.  It  was  a  setting  well  fitted  to  shroud  deep 
and  dark  designs.  No  one  would  dare  to  venture 
near. 

"You  have  done  well.  Egad!  I  know  of  none 
who  could  have  done  better." 

"Yet  it  was  no  easy  task,  I  assure  you.  They  thrill 
with  the  very  spirit  of  rebellion.  Cadwalader  will 
never  forgive  me,  and  will  haunt  me  when  he  dies." 

"You  got  him?"  Arnold  asked. 

"I  did.  But  I  had  to  take  proceedings  against  him 
which  portended  the  stocks.  I  promised  him  a  wheel- 
barrow to  be  pushed  every  day  in  the  resolution  of  his 
debt.  Only  when  I  had  the  jailer  at  hand  did  he  re- 
consider. The  debt  has  been  paid,  and  he  has  already 
signed." 

"I  am  glad  you  got  him.  He's  a  Papist,  isn't  he?" 
inquired  Peggy. 

"He  is,  and  a  staunch  one  at  that,"  replied  her  hus- 
band. 

"Let's  get  down  to  business,"  interrupted  Anderson. 
"How  soon  may  your  vessel  sail?" 

"This  week,  or  the  early  part  of  next,"  replied  Ar- 
nold. "I  drew  the  pass  three  weeks  ago.  With  the 
time  for  clearance  and  sailing  allowed,  she  should  be 


208  THE  LOYALIST 

ready  now.  You  had  better  make  an  allowance  of  a 
week." 

"How  about  the  crew?" 

"They  can  be  depended  upon.  They  are  beholden 
to  her  owner.  Have  no  fears  concerning  them." 

"How  soon  may  she  clear?" 

He  was  persistent  in  this. 

"In  a  few  days.     Tomorrow  if  pressed." 

"I  want  to  get  through  with  this  business  as  soon  as 
I  can  and  get  out  of  this  town.  It  may  get  too  hot 
for  me.  If  I  had  that  meeting  off  my  mind  and  the 
men  on  board  bound  for  New  York  I  would  enjoy 
greater  repose." 

"I  thought  you  were  never  apprehensive,"  remarked 
Peggy.  "With  your  composure  and  gallantry  the  world 
would  judge  that  cares  set  lightly  upon  your  head." 

"Happy  is  he  who  can  abandon  everything  with 
which  his  conscience  is  burdened.  I  have  enjoyed  no 
peace  of  soul  for  years  and  I  see  an  untimely  end." 

"Be  not  so  melancholy,"  observed  Arnold.  "My 
boy,  the  future  and  the  world  lie  before  you." 

"Like  a  yawning  abyss,"  was  the  grave  reply. 

"Oh!  spare  us  your  terrible  verdicts,"  cried  Peggy 
with  a  smile. 

"I  believe  that  I  should  have  crushed  with  my  scorn 
the  philosopher  who  first  uttered  this  terrible  but  pro- 
foundly true  thought,"  said  Anderson.  "  'Prudence  is 
the  first  thing  to  forsake  the  wretched !'  ' 

"Have  you  been  imprudent?"  she  asked. 

"I  did  find  a  charm  in  my  escapades.  At  first  I 
tingled  with  fear,  but  I  gradually  laid  aside  that  cloak 
of  suspicion  which  guards  safety,  and  stalked  about 
naked.  A  despicable  contempt  arises  from  an  unre- 
served intimacy.  We  grow  bolder  with  our  efforts." 


THE  LOYALIST  209 

"What  is  success?"  asked  Peggy. 

Their  mood  was  heavy;  their  tone  morose.  A  sad- 
ness had  settled  upon  them  like  the  blanket  of  the 
night.  Only  the  moon  climbing  into  the  heavens  radi- 
ated glory. 

"Come!  Away  with  those  dismal  topics!"  exclaimed 
the  General.  "This  is  the  time  for  rejoicing." 

"Can  you  rejoice?"  inquired  the  visitor. 

"I,  too,  should  be  happy,  but  I  fear,  alas,  I  am  not. 
My  people  give  me  no  peace." 

"Why  not  render  your  country  a  lasting  service?" 

"How?" 

"By  performing  a  heroic  deed  that  will  once  for  all 
put  an  end  to  this  unseemly  conflict." 

"Never!  I  have  been  shattered  twice  for  my  efforts. 
I  am  done  with  active  field  duty." 

"I  do  not  think  of  that,"  Anderson  assured  him. 

"Of  what,  then?" 

"You  know  that  the  mother  country  had  already 
offered  conciliation.  The  colonies  shall  have  an  Amer- 
ican Parliament  composed  of  two  chambers;  all  the 
members  to  be  Americans  by  birth,  and  those  of  the 
upper  chamber  to  have  the  same  title,  the  same  rank, 
as  those  of  the  House  of  Lords  in  England." 

"What?  A  Marquis  of  Pennsylvania,  a  Duke  of 
Massachusetts  Bay?"  he  laughed  aloud  at  this. 

"No  less  fitting  than  the  Duke  of  Albemarle." 

"Why  do  you  mention  him?"  Arnold  inquired  im- 
mediately. A  thought  flashed  before  his  mind.  Had 
Peggy  and  this  man  conversed  on  that  point? 

"He  simply  came  into  my  mind.     Why?" 

"Oh!     Nothing.     Continue." 

"As  I  was  saying,  all  laws,  and  especially  tax  laws, 
shall  be  the  work  of  this  legislature,  with  the  signature 


2io  THE  LOYALIST 

of  the  Viceroy.  They  shall  enjoy  in  every  relation  the 
advantage  of  the  best  government.  They  shall,  if  neces- 
sary, be  supported  by  all  the  naval  and  military  force 
of  England,  without  being  exposed  to  the  dangers  or 
subjected  to  the  taxes  from  which  such  a  military  state 
is  inseparable." 

"But  how?  What  can  I  do  that  I  have  not  already 
done?" 

"You  have  the  courage,  you  have  the  ingenuity  to 
render  that  important  service.  Why  allow  your  coun- 
trymen to  shed  more  blood  when  the  enemy  is  willing 
to  grant  all  you  are  fighting  for?  You  can  save  them 
from  anarchy.  You  can  save  them  from  the  factions 
of  Congress." 

"God  knows  how  ardently  I  desire  such  a  consum- 
mation," breathed  the  Governor. 

"I  am  confident  that  he  would  perform  any  act,  how- 
ever heroic  or  signal,  to  benefit  the  cause  of  his  coun- 
try," remarked  Peggy  with  deliberate  emphasis. 

"Name  it.    What  shall  I  do?"  he  asked. 

"Act  the  part  of  General  Monk  in  history,"  an- 
nounced Anderson. 

Arnold  recoiled.  He  could  not  believe  his  ears. 
Then  the  awful  truth  dawned  upon  him. 

"Is  this  your  work?"  he  turned  to  Peggy  fiercely. 

"On  my  honor,  I  never  thought  of  it."  His  wife 
was  frightened  at  his  sudden  change  of  manner. 

There  was  silence.  The  trio  sat  in  thought,  one 
awaiting  the  other  to  speak  the  first  word. 

"Never,"  blurted  Arnold.  "Never,  so  long  as  I 
wear  this  uniform." 

"And  yet  the  world  resounds  with  his  praises,  for 
he  performed  a  disinterested  and  humane  act." 

"A  treacherous  and  cowardly  act!" 


THE  LOYALIST  211 

"Listen,  I  shall  confide  in  you.  If  you  would  but 
exert  your  influence  in  favor  of  an  amicable  adjustment 
of  the  difficulties  between  the  colonies  and  the  mother 
country,  you  might  command  ten  thousand  guineas  and 
the  best  post  in  the  service  of  the  government." 

"Would  that  mean  a  peerage?"  asked  Peggy  sud- 
denly. 

"Assuredly,"  was  the  reply. 

She  stood  up  and  strutted  in  a  pompous  and  stately 
manner  before  them;  then  she  turned  and  courtesied 
before  her  husband. 

"Your  Grace,  the  carriage  waits  without.  The 
Duchess  is  already  in  waiting,"  she  announced  with  a 
sweeping  gesture. 

He  scowled  at  her  but  did  not  answer. 

"Clive  saved  the  British  Empire  in  India  and  you 
can  save  the  colonies,"  insisted  Anderson. 

"Would  not  a  proud  position  at  court,  the  comfort- 
able income  of  a  royal  estate,  the  possession  of  a  peer- 
age on  home  soil  more  than  reward  a  man  as  was  the 
case  with  General  Monk?"  challenged  Peggy,  with  a 
flash  of  sudden  anger. 

"And  leave  my  country  in  its  hour  of  need,"  he  fin- 
ished the  sentence  for  her. 

"Your  country!"  she  taunted.  "What  has  your 
country  done  for  you?  The  empty  honors  you  have 
gained  were  wrung  from  her.  The  battle  scars  you 
bear  with  you  were  treated  with  ingratitude.  You 
were  deprived  of  your  due  honors  of  command.  Even 
now  you  are  attacked  and  hounded  from  every  angle. 
Your  country!  Pooh!  A  scornful  mistress !" 

She  sat  down  and  folded  her  arms,  looking  fiercely 
into  the  dark. 

It  is  strange  how  human  nature  could  be  touched  by 


212  THE  LOYALIST 

so  small  affairs.  The  war  of  continents  meant  very 
little  to  her  imagination.  Certainly  the  parallel  was 
not  perfect;  but  it  seemed  to  her  to  fit. 

He  looked  around  slowly. 

"You  took  me  for  what  I  am,"  he  said  to  her.  "I 
gave  you  prestige,  wealth,  happiness.  But  I  have  prom- 
ised my  life  to  my  country  if  she  requires  it  and  I  shall 
never  withdraw  that  promise  while  I  live.  Better  the 
grave  of  the  meanest  citizen  than  the  mausoleum  of 
a  traitor." 

"But  think  of  your  country!"  insisted  Anderson. 

"Anderson,"  was  the  reply,  "I  know  the  needs  of 
the  country  and  I  know  deeply  my  own  grievances. 
Suppose  I  yield  to  your  suggestions  and  Britain  fails," 
— he  paused  as  if  to  measure  the  consequences.  "I 
shall  be  doomed.  I  shall  be  called  a  bigot.  My  chil- 
dren will  hate  me." 

He  seemed  to  waver.  His  earlier  enthusiasm  ap- 
parently diminished  before  their  attack. 

"But,"  continued  Anderson,  "with  your  aid  Britain 
cannot  fail.  And  remember  how  England  rewards 
those  who  render  her  great  and  signal  services.  Look 
at  the  majestic  column  at  Blenheim  Palace  reared  to 
the  memory  of  John  Churchill,  Duke  of  Marlborough. 
Contrast  with  it  what  Peggy  has  just  said,  the  ingrati- 
tude, the  injustice,  the  meanness,  with  which  Congress 
has  treated  you." 

"Must  the  end  justify  the  means?"  he  mused.  "Can 
you  continue  to  urge  me  to  duplicate  the  treachery  of 
Churchill,  who  can  never  be  forgiven  for  his  treason? 
Whatever  else  he  may  have  achieved,  you  must  re- 
member he  was  first  and  last  a  traitor." 

"He  was  doubly  a  traitor,  if  you  are  pleased  to  so 
stigmatize  him.  He  first  betrayed  his  benefactor, 


THE  LOYALIST  213 

James,  to  ally  himself  with  the  Prince  of  Orange;  and 
then,  on  the  pretext  of  remorse,  broke  faith  with 
William ;  acted  the  part  of  a  spy  in  his  court  and  camp; 
offered  to  corrupt  his  troops  and  lead  them  over  to 
James;  and  still  all  was  forgotten  in  the  real  service 
which  he  rendered  to  his  country,  and  his  name  has 
gone  into  history " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  sharp  sound,  as  if  some 
one  had  stepped  upon  a  branch  or  a  twig,  causing  it  to 
snap  beneath  his  feet.  On  the  instant,  Anderson  was 
upon  his  feet,  his  hand  feeling  instinctively  for  his 
revolver. 

"We  are  betrayed,"  he  whispered.  "There  is  a  spy 
here." 

All  had  arisen  in  silence  and  were  peering  into  the 
blackness  of  the  night  whence  the  sound  apparently 
came.  Anderson  thought  he  saw  a  figure  emerge  from 
behind  a  tree  far  off  in  the  distance  and  he  immedi- 
ately gave  chase,  opening  fire  as  he  did  so.  Several 
times  he  fired  into  the  dark  space  before  him,  for  it 
was  bristling  with  shade,  notwithstanding  the  obscure 
light  of  the  moon.  As  he  covered  the  wide  area  be- 
tween him  and  the  river,  the  lithe  form  of  a  man 
emerged  from  the  wooded  area  and  disappeared  down 
the  incline  which  led  to  the  water.  Nearing  the  bank 
he  heard  distinctly  the  splash  of  the  body  and  he  fired 
again  into  the  spot  whence  the  noise  arose.  The 
waters  were  still  in  commotion  when  he  reached  them, 
but  there  was  no  one  to  be  found;  nothing  save  the 
gentle  undulation  of  the  surface  as  it  closed  over  its 
burden,  and  gradually  became  placid  under  the  soft 
stillness  of  the  night.  After  several  minutes  of  intense 
vigilance,  he  slowly  retraced  his  steps. 


214  THE  LOYALIST 

in 

"The  river  has  swallowed  him,"  he  exclaimed  as  he 
neared  Arnold  and  Peggy,  who  were  standing  quite 
motionless  at  the  side  of  the  settees. 

"Who  was  it?"  the  General  asked  eagerly. 

"I  did  not  see  him.  He  disappeared  into  the  river. 
I  heard  the  splash  of  his  dive  and  fired  several  times 
in  its  direction,  but  saw  no  one." 

"Did  he  swim  it?" 

"No !  I  would  have  seen  him.  The  water  was  un- 
ruffled except  for  the  disturbance  caused  by  his  dive. 
The  poor  devil  must  have  sunk  to  the  bottom.  Per- 
haps one  of  my  shots  took  effect." 

"I  don't  like  this,"  muttered  Arnold.  "I  would  not 
have  that  conversation  overheard  for  the  crown  of 
England.  An  enemy  was  near.  I  hope  to  God  he  is 
in  the  bottom  of  the  river." 

"Still,  I  may  have  hit  him.  I  was  no  more  than 
fifty  yards  away." 

"I  shall  have  the  bed  dragged  in  the  morning.  I 
could  not  rest  without  finding  him.  His  identity  must 
be  learned." 

Leaving  the  settees,  they  set  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  house,  entering  by  the  rear  door.  The  servants 
were  already  in  alarm  over  the  shooting  and  were 
standing  in  a  group  behind  the  threshold  motionless 
with  awe.  Peggy  paused  to  assure  them  of  their  safety, 
narrating  briefly  the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  together 
with  the  probable  fate  of  the  spy.  She  rejoined  her 
husband  and  his  guest  in  the  drawing-room. 

"I  wonder  who  the  intruder  was?"  Arnold  mut- 
tered. There  was  a  look  of  worry  and  anxiety  on  his 
face.  His  fingers  nervously  locked  and  interlocked, 


THE  LOYALIST  215 

and  the  next  moment  grasped  his  chin  and  rubbed  his 
cheek.  He  put  his  foot  upon  the  stool  and  took  it 
down  again.  Then  he  sat  forward  in  his  chair. 

"Reed  is  behind  this,"  he  ejaculated.  "You  will 
find  out  that  I  am  right.  Reed  has  done  this,  or  has 
sent  one  of  his  lieutenants.  Damn  him !  He  has 
hounded  me." 

"I  may  have  been  tracked.  Perhaps  it  was  I  who 
was  sought.  My  late  movements  might  have  created 
suspicion,  and  it  is  possible  that  I  was  shadowed  here." 

"No,  Anderson.  No!  It  was  not  you  they  were 
seeking.  It  is  I,  I  tell  you.  Reed  has  been  watching 
me  like  a  sharpshooter  from  the  day  I  arrived.  He 
has  been  the  author  of  the  rumors  which  you  have 
heard  about  town,  and  he  would  risk  his  life  to  be 
enabled  to  establish  a  serious  charge  against  me.  I  am 
sure  of  it.  Reed  is  behind  this;  Reed  and  the  City 
Council." 

"It  was  a  nimble  form " 

"Did  you  say  you  thought  you  hit  him?"  he  asked 
nervously,  seeking  some  source  of  comfort  and  assur- 
ance. 

"As  I  live,  I  hit  him,"  Anderson  promised  him. 
"Else  I  would  have  discovered  him  in  the  act  of  swim- 
ming. He  is  in  the  bottom  of  the  river." 

"That's  good,  damn  him.  Ohl  If  it  were  but  Reed 
himself!  He  haunts  me." 

"He  would  not  haunt  you  did  you  but  remove  your- 
self from  here,"  volunteered  Peggy. 

"I  know  it.  I  know  it,"  he  repeated.  "But  how 
can  I?" 

"I  suggested  one  avenue  to  you,"  proposed  Ander- 
son. 

"Which?" 


216  THE  LOYALIST 

He  awaited  the  answer. 

"Via  England." 

His  face  glared  with  a  livid  red.  He  brought  his 
fist  high  above  his  head. 

"By  heavens !"  he  roared.  "I  won't  hear  that  again. 
I  won't  listen  to  it,  I  tell  you.  I'm  afraid  to  do  it.  I 
cannot  do  it.  I  cannot." 

He  shook  his  head  as  he  slowly  repeated  the  words. 

"Pardon  me,"  Anderson  pleaded,  "I  intended  no 
harm.  I  apologize  most  sincerely  for  my  impertinence. 
It  will  not  happen  again,  I  assure  you." 

"That  will  do.     Drop  it  at  that." 

"The  vessel  will  be  ready  next  week?  The  meet- 
ing, then,  can  take  place  a  week  from  Thursday." 

"Undoubtedly." 

"You  will  assure  me  of  your  interest?" 

He  was  on  the  point  of  going.  Though  he  had  con- 
quered, still,  he  did  not  know  that  he  had  conquered. 
He  believed,  as  he  turned  and  faced  his  friend  for  the 
last  time  in  Mount  Pleasant,  that  his  mind  was  fully 
made  up  and  that  he  had  decided  for  all  time  in  favor 
of  the  cause,  at  the  sacrifice  of  himself. 

"I  shall  do  what  I  can,"  Arnold  whispered,  "but  no 
more." 

He  parted  from  them  at  the  threshold. 


CHAPTER  VI 


"I  have  always  contended,  Griff,  that  a  bigot  and  a 
patriot  are  incompatible,"  remarked  Stephen  as  he  sat 
on  the  side  of  his  bed,  and  looked  across  the  room 
and  out  into  the  sunlit  street  beyond. 

"Is  that  something  you  have  just  discovered?"  an- 
swered Sergeant  Griffin  without  taking  his  eyes  from 
the  newspaper  before  him.  He  was  seated  by  the 
window,  musing  the  morning  news,  his  curved  pipe 
hanging  idle  from  his  mouth,  from  which  incipient 
clouds  of  smoke  lazily  issued  and  as  lazily  climbed 
upward  and  vanished  through  the  open  casement  into 
threads  of  nothingness. 

"No,"  was  the  reply,  "but  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  philosophy  of  religious  prejudice  can- 
not be  harmonized  with  true  patriotism.  They  stand 
against  each  other  as  night  and  day.  The  one  neces- 
sarily excludes  the  other." 

"Do  you  know,  Captain,"  the  sergeant  reasoned, 
pointing  towards  Stephen  with  the  stem  of  his  pipe, 
"a  hard  shell  and  a  fool  are  somewhat  alike;  one  won't 
reason;  the  other  can't." 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  Stephen  laughed.  "But  love 
of  country  and  love  of  one's  neighbor  should  be 
synonymous.  This  I  have  found  by  actual  experience 
to  be  almost  a  truism." 

He  was  idling  about  the  room  gathering  wearing 

217 


218  THE  LOYALIST 

apparel  from  the  closets  and  drawers,  pausing  for  a 
moment  to  feel  a  pile  of  wet  clothing  that  lay  across 
the  back  of  a  straight  chair. 

"You  must  have  fallen  overboard  last  night,"  ob- 
served the  sergeant. 

"I  didn't  fall,  Griff;  I  jumped." 

"And  let  me  tell  you,  Griff,"  Stephen  continued, 
"Arnold  has  become  one  of  the  most  dangerous  men 
in  the  whole  American  Army." 

He  was  dressing  quietly. 

"And  you  discovered  that,  too?" 

"I  am  certain  of  it,  now." 

"That  is  more  like  it.  I  don't  suppose  you  ever  had 
any  doubts  about  it.  Now  you  have  the  facts,  eh?" 

"I  have  some  of  them;  not  all.  But  I  have  enough 
to  court-martial  him." 

"And  you  got  them  last  night?" 

"I  did." 

"And  got  wet,  too?" 

"I  almost  got  killed,"  was  the  grave  response. 

"How?" 

"Anderson  shot  at  me." 

"Was  he  with  you,  also?" 

"No.    After  me." 

"Come,  let  us  hear  it.    Where  were  you?" 

"At  Mount  Pleasant." 

"With  Arnold  and  Anderson?" 

"Yes.  But  they  did  not  know  it.  I  shadowed  An- 
derson to  the  house  and  lay  concealed  in  the  park.  In 
the  evening  they  came  into  the  park,  that  is,  Arnold 
and  Peggy  and  Anderson." 

"And  they  discovered  you?" 

"I  think  they  did  not.  I  was  unfortunate  enough  to 
break  a  branch  beneath  my  foot.  They  heard  it.  Of 


THE  LOYALIST  219 

course,  I  was  obliged  to  leave  hurriedly,  but  Anderson 
must  have  seen  me  running.  The  distance  was  too 
great  to  allow  him  to  recognize  me.  Then,  again,  I 
was  not  in  uniform." 

"And  he  shot  at  you,  I  suppose." 

"He  did,  but  the  shots  went  wide.  I  decided  the 
river  was  the  safest  course,  so  I  headed  for  that  and 
dived  in.  I  believe  I  was  fortunate  in  attempting  to 
swim  under  water;  this  I  did  as  long  as  I  could  hold 
my  breath.  When  I  arose,  I  allowed  myself  to  float 
close  to  the  shore  along  with  the  current  until  I  had 
moved  far  down  the  river.  After  that  I  lost  all  sight 
of  him." 

He  was  now  dressed  in  his  military  uniform  and 
looked  little  exhausted  from  his  experience  of  the 
night  before,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  had  en- 
joyed but  a  few  hours'  sleep.  Still,  it  was  past  the  hour 
of  ten,  and  he  could  tell  from  the  appearance  of  the 
street  that  the  sun  was  already  high  in  the  heavens. 
He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  at  the  citizens 
hurrying  to  and  fro  about  their  several  errands.  From 
an  open  window  directly  across  the  way  resounded  the 
familiar  strain  of  "Yankee  Doodle"  drawn  from  a 
violin  by  a  poor  but  extremely  ambitious  musician.  He 
stood  for  a  minute  to  listen. 

"There  are  a  few  of  them  in  the  colonies,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"I  would  there  were  one  less,"  was  the  reply. 

Stephen  turned  from  the  window. 

"We  have  some  work  ahead  of  us,  Griff,"  he  said 
after  a  long  pause.  "The  plot  is  about  to  sizzle.  Are 
you  ready?"  he  asked. 

"Of  course.    When  do  you  want  me?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you  now.     I  have  learned  that  the 


220  THE  LOYALIST 

work  of  recruiting  is  about  finished  and  that  the  organ- 
ization will  take  place  some  time  next  week.  The  com- 
pany will  leave  the  following  day  for  New  York  on  a 
vessel  for  which  Arnold  has  already  issued  a  pass." 

"Arnold?" 

"Yes,  Arnold,"  he  repeated.  "He  has  been  in  this 
scheme  from  the  start.  Remember  that  note  I  told 
you  about?  I  have  watched  him  carefully  since  then, 
awaiting  just  such  a  move.  I  can  have  him  court- 
martialed  for  this." 

"For  this  pass?" 

"Certainly.  That  is  a  violation  of  Section  Eighteen 
of  the  Fifth  Article  of  War." 

The  sergeant  whistled. 

"And  I  am  going  to  this  meeting." 

"You  are  going?" 

"Yes." 

"How?" 

"That  I  do  not  know.  But  I  shall  find  a  way.  They 
have  forced  Jim  Cadwalader  into  the  company." 

"Jim?" 

"Yes.  I  learned  that  last  night.  Today  I  mean  to 
see  Jim  to  learn  the  particulars.  After  that  we  shall 
be  in  a  position  to  decide  further.  You  will  be  here 
when  I  return?" 

"Yes.     I  shall  stay  here." 

"I  won't  go  until  late  this  afternoon.  Until  then 
keep  your  eye  open." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  saluting. 


II 

Wlhen  Stephen  had  presented  himself  that  afternoon 
at  Jim   Cadwalader's  modest  home,   he   had   almost 


THE  LOYALIST  221 

persuaded  himself  that  all  would  not  be  well.  That 
the  members  of  the  Catholic  regiment,  whom  Ander- 
son boasted  had  totaled  nearly  an  hundred,  could  so 
easily  be  dissuaded  from  their  original  purpose,  he 
thought  highly  improbable.  He  was  well  aware  that 
some  of  his  co-religionists  had  been  subject  to  British 
official  or  personal  influence;  that  other  some  were 
vehemently  opposed  to  the  many  outrages  which  had 
been  committed  and  condoned  in  the  name  of  Liberty; 
that  others  still  were  not  unmindful  of  the  spirit  of 
hostility  displayed  by  the  Colonists  during  the  early 
days,  and  had  now  refused  for  that  reason  to  take  sides 
with  their  intolerant  neighbors  in  their  struggle  for 
Independence.  Hence  it  was  quite  true  that  many 
Catholics  were  loyal  to  the  mother  country,  more 
loyal,  in  fact,  than  they  were  to  the  principles  of 
American  Independence  and  the  land  of  their  birth. 
These,  he  feared,  might  have  composed  the  bulk  of  the 
recruits  and  these  might  be  the  less  easily  dissuaded. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  was  satisfied  that  many  who 
were  unwilling  to  barter  their  allegiance  had  been  con- 
strained to  yield.  If  the  complexion  of  the  regiment 
was  of  the  latter  variety,  all  would  be  well.  His  mis- 
givings were  not  without  foundation. 

He  knocked  upon  the  small  white  door  of  Jim's 
house  and  inquired  of  Mrs.  Cadwalader  if  he  might  see 
her  husband.  Jim  was  at  the  door  even  as  he  spoke, 
and  grasped  his  hand  wacrmly,  exchanging  the  greet- 
ings of  the  day.  He  then  led  him  to  the  chairs  under 
the  great  tree. 

"I  want  to  see  you  on  a  matter  of  great  importance," 
Stephen  said  with  no  further  delay.  "Tell  me  about 
Mr.  Anderson." 

"I  guess  ther'  ain't  much  t'  tell,"  Jim  replied. 


222  THE  LOYALIST 

"You  have  held  conference  with  him?" 

11  Twas  him  thet  held  it;  not  me." 

"About  the  Regiment?" 

"Aye!" 

"Have  you  signed  your  name?" 

"I  hed  tf." 

He  was  all  in  a  fever,  for  his  manner  and  his  hesita- 
tion indicated  it. 

"When  do  they  meet?" 

"Thursda'  next." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Anderson  hisself  jest  told  me." 

"He  has  been  here  already?" 

"Ye-eh,  this  aft'rnoon." 

He  looked  down  upon  the  ground,  considering. 

"Where  do  they  meet?" 

"Th'  basement  o'  th'  Baptist  Church." 

"Tell  me,  Jim,"  Stephen  asked  quietly.  "Why  did 
you  enlist  in  that  company?" 

"I  hed  t',  I  told  ye." 

"Were  you  compelled  to?" 

"I  was." 

And  then  he  told  him  of  the  number  of  debts  which 
beset  him,  and  the  starvation  which  was  beginning  to 
prick  him.  He  told  of  the  first  visit  of  Anderson  and 
his  offer  of  four  pounds  to  every  volunteer  in  the  new 
regiment  of  Catholic  soldiers.  He  declared  that  he 
had  refused  absolutely  to  take  part  in  any  disloyal  act, 
however  great  might  be  the  reward,  and  had  said  that 
he  preferred  to  starve  until  the  colonists  had  obtained 
their  rights.  He  then  told  of  Anderson's  second  visit, 
during  which  he  offered  to  relieve  him  of  all  financial 
obligations  on  condition  that  he  would  sign  with  him; 
which  offer  he  again  refused.  And  finally  he  related 


THE  LOYALIST  223 

how  he  was  threatened  with  imprisonment  for  his  in- 
debtedness, and  was  actually  served  with  the  papers  of 
arrest  and  confinement  in  the  stocks  unless  his  signature 
was  given,  and  how  he  was  at  length  obliged  to  yield 
and  sign  over  the  allegiance. 

Stephen  listened  intently  throughout  it  all,  oddly 
studying  the  face  of  his  companion,  reading  into  his 
very  soul  as  he  spoke.  He  was  satisfied  now  with 
Cadwalader's  story. 

"Jim,"  he  said  at  length.  "You  do  not  want  to  join 
this  regiment?" 

"No,  sir !"  he  exclaimed  aloud.    "Not  a  bit  uv  it." 

"If  I  promise  to  assist  you  to  escape  from  this  man, 
will  you  lend  me  your  help?" 

"Will  I?    Enythin'y'  ask,  sir." 

His  eyes  brightened  with  manifest  ardor. 

"I  want  to  go  to  that  meeting,  and  I  want  you  to  let 
me  take  your  place." 

"Sure,  y'  ken." 

"And  I  want  to  borrow  your  clothes." 

"I  ain't  got  much,"  observed  Jim,  extending  his 
hands  and  looking  down  at  his  clothing,  "but  what  I 
hev,  is  yours." 

"And  I  want  you  to  be  in  the  vicinity  of  the  building 
to  join  in  any  agitation  which  may  result  against  Mr. 
Anderson." 

"I'll  do  thet,  too." 

"Of  course,  if  we  fail  it  may  go  hard  with  us.  A 
crowd  is  an  uncertain  element  to  deal  with,  you  realize. 
But  it  is  our  only  chance.  Will  you  take  it?" 

"O*  course,  I'll  take  it.  I'll  do  enythin'  y'  say,  eny- 
thin'." 

"And  Jim!  You  know  of  many  so-called  members 
of  that  company  who  have  been  impressed  in  a  manner 


224  THE  LOYALIST 

similar  to  yours  and  who,  very  likely,  are  of  the  same 
state  of  mind  as  you." 

"I  know  meny,  sir." 

"Very  good!  Can  you  not  move  among  them  and 
acquaint  them  secretly  with  what  I  have  just  told  you? 
Secure  their  cooperation  for  me  so  that,  when  the  mo- 
ment comes,  I  may  depend  upon  them  for  support. 
Urge  them,  too,  to  join  in  whatever  demonstration 
may  be  made  against  the  project." 

"I'll  do  thet,  sir,  and  y'  may  depend  'n  me  fur  it." 

"You  say  Thursday  night?  Keep  me  informed  of 
any  further  developments.  At  any  rate,  I  shall  see 
you  before  then.  Remember,  however,"  he  cautioned, 
"what  I  have  just  confided  to  you  must  be  kept  with 
the  utmost  secrecy." 

He  raised  his  hand  high  above  his  head  and  stood 
up. 

"I  hope  t'  God  I  die " 

"Never  mind  swearing,"  interrupted  Stephen,  pull- 
ing him  back  again  into  his  chair.  "Simply  be  on  your 
guard,  that  is  all." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  are  right  to  come  back,"  he  said;  "you  should 
have  persevered  in  your  resistance." 

"I  couldn't  help  it,  could  I?     I  was  made  t'." 

"We  become  vigorous  under  persecution,"  answered 
Stephen. 

"I'm  sorry." 

"Well  then — tell  me.  Do  you  know  aught  of  this 
Mr.  Anderson?" 

He  stared  at  him  with  a  questioning  look.  He  was 
completely  bewildered. 

"Thet  I  don't.  Why?  What— what  could  I 
know?" 


THE  LOYALIST  225 

"I  mean  do  you  know  who  he  is?" 

He  sat  up. 

"Why,  I  never  thought  o'  him.  He  seem'd  c'rrect 
'nough,  I  thought.  Marj'rie  brought  'im  here,  I 
think." 

Stephen  set  his  teeth. 

"Marjorie?"  he  repeated.    "Are  you  sure  of  that?" 

"I  am,  sir." 

"When  was  this?" 

"It's  a  good  time  now.    I  jest  can't  r'member." 

"Did  she  know  of  his  purpose?" 

He  paused  as  if  he  would  say  more,  but  dared  not. 

"Thet  I  can't  say.  If  I  r'member  c'rrectly  she  kept 
herself  wid  th'  old  lady." 

"How  often  did  she  accompany  him?" 

"Just  thet  once." 

"You  mean  she  simply  made  you  acquainted  with 
him?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

A  light  began  to  glimmer  in  Stephen's  mind,  and 
gradually  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  him. 

"In  her  presence,  I  presume,  the  conversation  was 
more  or  less  general.  He  alluded  to  the  scheme  which 
was  uppermost  in  his  mind  only  secretly  with  you?" 

"Thet  wuz  all,  sir." 

He  knew  well  enough  now  what  his  friend  meant, 
though  nothing  of  the  details,  and  from  the  uncertainty 
and  the  apprehension  of  his  manner  he  judged  that 
there  was  much  of  which  he  was  still  in  the  dark. 
Anderson  had  come  to  Jim  with  the  girl  to  secure  an 
advantageous  introduction;  after  that  he  had  no  imme- 
diate need  of  her  company.  He  was  of  the  opinion 
that  she  was  entirely  ignorant  of  the  man's  character 
and  motives,  although  she  was  unwittingly  an  impor- 


226  THE  LOYALIST 

tant  instrument  in  his  hands.  Stephen  longed  to  reveal 
the  truth  of  the  situation  to  her,  but  dared  not;  at  any 
rate,  thought  he,  not  until  the  proper  time  came.  Then 
she  would  be  enabled  to  appreciate  for  herself  the 
trend  of  the  whole  affair. 

"Can  I  ask  ye,"  inquired  Jim  in  a  voic'e.that  indi- 
cated timidity,  "will  this  affair — I  mean,  d'ye  s'pose 
this  thing  '11  bring  us  t'  eny  harm,  'r  thet  they'll  be  a 
disorder?" 

Stephen's  eyes  danced  with  excitement. 

"Do  they  observe  the  courtesies  of  the  law?  If  it 
comes  to  the  worst,  yes, — there  will  be  a  scene  and  the 
grandest  scene  in  which  a  villain  ever  participated." 

Marjorie  entering  through  the  gate  posts  immedi- 
ately commanded  their  attention. 

Ill 

"I  should  be  happy  to  be  permitted  to  accompany 
you  home,"  Stephen  whispered  to  her  at  a  moment 
when  they  chanced  to  be  alone. 

"I  should  be  happy  to  have  you,"  was  the  soft  re- 
sponse. 


"You  look  well,"  she  said  to  him  after  they  had 
made  their  adieus  to  the  Cadwaladers  and  begun  their 
walk  together  down  the  street. 

Her  eyes  twinkled,  and  a  pretty  smile  stole  across 
her  face. 

"I  am  as  tired  as  I  can  be.  I  have  endured  some 
trying  experiences." 

"Can  you  not  leave  here  and  take  a  rest?  I  fear 
that  you  will  overtax  yourself." 


THE  LOYALIST  227 

He  turned  and  looked  seriously  at  her. 

"Honestly?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.  I  mean  it.  Do  you  know  that  I  have  allowed 
no  day  to  pass  without  praying  for  you?" 

"To  know  that,  and  to  hear  you  say  it  is  worth  a 
series  of  adventures.  But,  really,  I  could  not  think  of 
leaving  here  now;  not  for  another  fortnight  at  least. 
The  moments  are  too  critical." 

"Are  you  still  engaged  in  that  pressing  business?" 

"Yes." 

"For  your  success  in  that  I  have  also  prayed." 

She  was  constant  after  all,  he  thought.  Still  he 
wondered  if  she  could  be  sincere  in  her  protestations, 
and  at  the  same  time  remain  true  to  Anderson.  For 
he  really  believed  that  she  had  been  deceived  by  his 
apparent  infatuation. 

"I  suppose  you  know  that  Jim  has  been  ensnared?" 
he  asked  suddenly. 

"Jim?    No  ...  I, What  has  happened?" 

She  was  genuinely  surprised. 

"He  has  enlisted  in  the  regiment." 

"Has  he  forsworn?" 

"Not  yet.  But  he  has  signed  the  papers  of  enlist- 
ment." 

"I  am  sorry,  very  sorry."  Then  after  a  pause:  "It 
was  I  who  brought  Anderson  to  Jim's  house,  you 
know." 

"Yes.     I  know." 

"But  I  must  confess  that  I  did  not  know  the  nature 
of  his  errand.  I,  myself,  was  seeking  an  advantage." 

"No  matter.  It  may  eventually  redound  to  our 
credit." 

"I  regret  exceedingly  of  having  been  the  occasion  of 
Jim's  misfortune." 


228  THE  LOYALIST 

Her  eyes  were  cast  down,  her  head  bent  forward  as 
she  walked  in  what  one  might  characterize  a  medita- 
tive mood. 

"I,  too,  am  sorry.     But  there  are  others." 

"Many?" 

"That  I  do  not  know.    Later  I  shall  tell  you." 

"And  why  not  now?" 

"I  cannot." 

It  was  a  troublesome  situation  in  which  the  two 
found  themselves.  Here  were  two  souls  who  loved 
each  other  greatly,  yet  without  being  able  to  arrive  at 
a  mutual  understanding  on  the  subject.  They  were 
separated  by  a  filmy  veil.  The  girl,  naturally  frank 
and  unreserved,  was  intimidated  by  the  restrained  and 
melancholy  mien  of  her  companion.  Yet  she  felt  con- 
strained to  speak  lest  deception  might  be  charged 
against  her.  Stephen,  troubled  in  his  own  mind  over 
the  supposed  unfavorable  condition  of  affairs,  skeptical 
of  the  affections  of  his  erstwhile  confidante,  felt,  too,  a 
like  necessity  to  be  open  and  explain  all. 

So  they  walked  for  a  time,  he  thinking,  and  she 
waiting  for  him  to  speak. 

"For  two  reasons  I  cannot  tell  you,"  he  went  on. 
"First,  the  nature  of  the  work  is  so  obscure  and  so 
incomplete  that  I  could  give  you  no  logical  nor  con- 
cise account  of  what  I  am  doing.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I,  myself,  am  still  wandering  in  a  sort  of  maze.  The 
other  reason  is  that  I  have  taken  the  greatest  care  to 
say  no  word  in  any  way  derogatory  to  the  character  of 
Mr.  Anderson." 

"You  wouldn't  do  that." 

"That's  just  it.  I  should  not  want  to  be  the  cause 
of  your  forming  an  opinion  one  way  or  the  other  con- 


THE  LOYALIST  229 

earning  him.  I  would  much  prefer  you  to  discover 
and  to  decide  for  yourself." 

"That  is  charity." 

"Perhaps!" 

"And  tact." 

She  peeped  at  him,  her  lips  parted  in  a  merry  smile. 
Evidently  she  was  in  a  flippant  mood. 

"It  would  be  most  unfair  to  him  were  I  to  establish 
a  prejudice  in  your  mind  against  him." 

"Yet  you  have  already  disapproved  of  my  friend- 
ship with  him." 

"I  have,  as  I  already  have  told  you." 

"Yet  you  have  never  told  me  the  reason,"  she  re- 
minded him. 

"I  cannot." 

He  shook  his  head. 

For  he  would  not  wound  her  feelings  for  the  world; 
and  still  it  pained  him  to  be  compelled  to  leave  her  in  a 
state  bordering  on  perplexity,  not  to  say  bewilderment, 
as  a  result  of  his  strange  silence.  A  delicate  subject 
requires, a  deft  hand,  and  he  sensed  only  too  keenly 
his  impotency  in  this  respect.  He,  therefore,  thought 
it  best  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  any  attempts  at 
explanation,  at  least  for  the  present. 

Furthermore,  he  was  entirely  ignorant  of  her  opin- 
ion of  Anderson.  Of  course,  he  would  have  given 
worlds  to  know  this.  But  there  seemed  no  reasonable 
hope  that  that  craving  would  be  satisfied.  He  was  per- 
suaded that  the  man  had  made  a  most  favorable  im- 
pression upon  her,  and  if  that  were  true,  he  knew  that 
it  were  fruitless  to  continue  further,  for  impressions 
once  made  are  not  easily  obliterated.  Poor  girl!  he 
thought.  She  had  seen  only  his  best  side;  just  that 
amount  of  good  in  a  bad  man  that  makes  him  danger- 


230  THE  LOYALIST 

ous, — just  that  amount  of  interest  which  often  makes 
the  cleverest  person  of  a  dullard. 

Hence  she  was  still  an  enigma.  As  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  however,  there  had  been  little  or  no  varia- 
tion in  his  attachment  to  her.  She  was  ever  the  same 
interesting,  lovely,  tender,  noble  being;  complete  in  her 
own  virtues,  indispensable  to  his  own  happiness.  Per- 
haps he  had  been  mistaken  in  his  analysis  of  her;  but 
no, — very  likely  she  did  care  for  the  other  man,  or  at 
any  rate  was  beginning  to  find  herself  in  that  unfortu- 
nate state — fortunate,  indeed,  for  Anderson,  but  un- 
fortunate for  him. 

For  this  reason,  more  than  for  any  other,  he  had 
desisted-from  saying  anything  that  might  have  lessened 
Anderson  in  her  regard.  It  would  be  most  unfair  to 
interfere  with  her  freedom  of  choice.  When  the  facts 
of  the  case  were  revealed  in  all  their  fullness,  he  felt 
certain  that  she  would  repent  of  her  infatuation,  if  he 
might  be  permitted  to  so  term  her  condition.  It 
seemed  best  to  him  to  await  developments  before  fur- 
ther pressing  his  suit. 

"Stephen,"  she  said  at  length.  "What  are  you 
thinking  of  me?" 

"I — Why? — That  is  a  sudden  question.  Do  you 
mean  complimentary  or  critical?" 

"I  mean  this.  Have  you  misjudged  my  relations 
with  John  Anderson?" 

"I  have  thought  in  my  mind "  he  began,  and 

stopped. 

Marjorie  started.  The  voice  was  quiet  enough  but 
significant  in  tone. 

"Please  tell  me,"  she  pleaded.     "I  must  know." 

"Well,  I  have  thought  that  you  have  been  unusually 
attentive  to  him." 


THE  LOYALIST  231 

"Yes." 

"And  that,  perhaps,  you  do  care  for  him, — just  a 
little." 

There !     It  was  out.    She  had  guessed  aright. 

"I  thought  as  much,"  she  said  quietly. 

"Then  why  did  you  ask  me?" 

"Listen,"  she  began.  "Do  you  recall  the  night  you 
asked  me  to  be  of  some  service  to  you?" 

"Perfectly." 

"I  have  thought  over  that  subject  long  and  often. 
I  wondered  wherein  that  service  could  lie.  During  the 
night  of  Peggy's  affair  it  dawned  upon  me  that  this 
stranger  to  whom  I  was  presented,  might  be  more  art- 
ful than  honest.  I  decided  to  form  his  acquaintance 
so  that  I  might  learn  his  identity,  together  with  his 
mission  in  the  city.  I  cherished  the  ambition  of  draw- 
ing certain  information  from  him;  and  this  I  felt  could 
be  accomplished  only  by  an  assumed  intimacy  with 
him." 

Stephen  stopped  suddenly.  His  whole  person  was 
tense  and  magnetic  as  he  stared  at  her. 

"Marjoriel"  he  exclaimed.     "Do  you  mean  it?" 

"Truly.  I  read  his  character  from  the  first.  His 
critical  attitude  displeased  me.  But  I  had  to  pretend. 
I  had  to." 

"Please !  Please  forgive  me."  He  turned  and 
seized  suddenly  both  her  hands.  "I  thought, — I 
thought, — I  cannot  say  it.  Won't  you  forgive  me?" 

Her  eyes  dropped.    She  freed  her  hands. 

"Then  I  tricked  you  as  well,"  she  exclaimed  with  a 
laugh. 

"And  you  mean  it?  I  am  made  very  happy  today, 
happier  than  words  can  express.  What  loyalty !  You 


232  THE  LOYALIST 

have  been  helping  me  all  the  time  and  I  never  knew  it. 
Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before?" 

"You  never  gave  me  leave.  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you 
so  much,  and  you  seemed  to  forbid  me.  ...  I  prayed 
for  an  opportunity,  and  none  came." 

"I  am  very  sorry." 

"Anderson  interested  me  only  in  this, — he  came  into 
our  society  for  a  very  definite  purpose,  the  nature  of 
which  I  was  most  desirous  of  learning.  I  know  now 
that  he  is  not  of  our  faith,  although  he  pretends  to  be. 
He  is  not  of  French  extraction,  yet  he  would  lead  one 
to  assume  that  he  was.  He  is  a  British  officer  and 
actively  engaged  in  the  service  of  the  enemy.  At  pres- 
ent the  recruiting  of  the  proposed  regiment  of  Catholic 
Volunteers  for  service  with  the  enemy  is  his  immediate 
work.  He  hopes  to  find  many  displeased  and  disloyal 
members  of  our  kind.  Them  he  would  incorporate 
into  a  company  of  deserters." 

"You  have  learned  that  from  him?" 

"Aye !  And  more.  General  Arnold  has  been  in- 
itiated into  the  scheme.  I  do  not  know  what  to  think 
except  that  he  has  yielded  to  some  influence.  His  an- 
tipathy toward  us  would  require  none,  nevertheless  I 
feel  that  some  undue  pressure  has  been  brought  to  bear 
upon  him." 

"Anderson  ?V  he  asked. 

"I  do  not  know.  At  any  rate  he  will  bear  watching. 
I  think  he  is  about  to  ask  for  a  more  important  com- 
mand." 

Stephen  then  told  her  of  his  adventures,  relating  to 
her  wholly  and  candidly  the  details  of  his  suspicions, 
together  with  his  plan  for  the  future.  Throughout  it 
all  she  listened  with  attention,  so  much  interested  that 
she  was  scarce  aware  that  they  were  crossing  the  wide 


THE  LOYALIST  233 

road  before  her  own  home.  Her  eyes  had  been  about 
her  everywhere  as  they  walked,  yet  they  had  failed  to 
perceive  anything. 

"Won't  you  come  in?"  she  asked.  "You  are  almost 
a  stranger  here  now." 

"I  would  like  to  more  than  I  can  tell  you ;  but  truly 
I  have  business  before  me  which  is  pressing.  Pardon 
me  just  once  more,  please." 

"Mother  would  be  pleased  to  see  you,  you  know," 
she  insisted. 

"I  should  like,  indeed,  to  see  your  mother.  I  shall 
stop  to  see  her,  just  to  inquire  for  her." 

"Will  you  come  when  this  terrible  business  is  com- 
pleted?" 

"Gladly.  Let  us  say, — next  week.  Perhaps  you 
might  be  pleased  to  come  canoeing  with  me  for  the 
space  of  an  afternoon?" 

"I  should  be  delighted.    Next  week?" 

"Yes.    Next  week.     I  shall  let  you  know." 

"Here  is  mother,  now." 

He  went  in  and  shook  her  head,  inquiring  diligently 
concerning  her. 

IV 

As  Stephen  walked  away  from  the  home  of  his  be- 
loved, ruminating  over  the  strange  disclosures  of  the 
day  and  how  satisfactory  and  gratifying  they  were  to 
him,  his  state  of  mind  was  such  that  he  was  eager  for 
the  completion  of  the  more  serious  business  that  was 
impending  so  that  he  might  return  to  her  who  had 
flooded  his  soul  with  new  and  sudden  delight.  Never 
was  he  more  buoyant  or  cheerful.  He  was  cheerful, 
notwithstanding  his  remorse. 


234  THE  LOYALIST 

For  he  did  chide  himself  over  his  absurd  stupidity. 
He  should  have  known  her  better  than  to  have  enter- 
tained, for  even  a  passing  moment,  a  thought  of  her 
inconstancy,  and  that  he  should  have  so  misjudged  her, 
— her  whom  he  himself  would  have  selected  from 
among  his  host  of  acquaintances  as  the  one  best  fitted 
for  the  office  assumed, — disturbed  him  not  a  little. 
His  own  unworthiness  filled  him  with  shame.  Why 
did  he  question  her? 

And  yet  he  would  have  given  his  own  life  to  make 
her  happy,  he  who  was  quietly  allowing  her  to  vanish 
out  of  it.  He  tried  to  explain  his  fallacy.  First 
of  all,  the  trend  of  circumstances  was  decidedly  against 
him.  There  was  his  arrest  and  subsequent  trial,  days 
when  he  had  longed  to  be  at  her  side  to  pursue  the 
advantages  already  gained.  Then  there  were  the  days 
of  his  absence  from  town,  the  long  solid  weeks  spent  in 
trailing  Anderson,  and  in  meeting  those  who  had  been 
approached  by  him  in  the  matter  of  the  recruiting.  It 
was  well  nigh  impossible,  during  this  time,  to_seize  a 
moment  for  pleasure,  precious  moments  during  which 
Anderson,  as  he  thought,  had  been  making  favorable 
progress  both  with  his  suit  and  with  his  sinister  work. 
If  Marjorie  had  forgotten  him  quite,  Stephen  knew 
that  he  alone  was  responsible.  Him  she  had  seen  but 
seldom;  Anderson  was  ever  at  her  side.  No  girl 
should  be  put  to  this  test.  It  was  too  exacting. 

Despite  his  appreciation  of  these  facts,  his  soul  had 
been  seized  with  a  very  great  anguish  over  the  thought 
of  his  lost  prize;  and  if  he  had  failed  to  conceal  his 
feelings  in  her  presence,  it  was  due  to  the  fact  that  his 
sensitive  nature  was  not  equal  to  the  strain  imposed 
upon  it.  Who  can  imagine  the  great  joy  that  now 
filled  his  heart  to  overflowing  as  a  result  of  his  con- 


THE  LOYALIST  235 

versation  today,  when  he  learned  from  her  own  lips 
that  throughout  it  all  she  had  been  steadfast  and  true 
to  him  alone?  His  great  regard  for  her  was  increased 
immeasurably.  Her  character  had  been  put  to  the  test, 
and  she  had  emerged  more  beautiful,  more  radiant, 
more  steadfast  than  before. 

This  new  analysis  led  him  to  a  very  clear  decision. 
First  of  all  he  would  defeat  the  cunning  Anderson  at 
his  own  game;  then  he  would  rescue  his  countrymen 
from  their  unfortunate  and  precarious  condition;  and, 
finally,  he  would  return  to  Marjorie  to  claim  his  re- 
ward. Altogether  he  had  spent  an  advantageous  and  a 
delightful  afternoon.  He  was  ready  to  enter  the  meet- 
ing house  with  renewed  energy. 


CHAPTER  VII 


The  hall  was  very  ordinary  within.  Small  in  pro- 
portion to  its  great  high  ceiling,  bleak  in  its  white- 
washed walls  and  scantily  covered  floor,  oppressive 
from  its  damp,  stifling  air  and  poor  ventilation,  it  gave 
every  indication  of  the  state  of  disuse  into  which  it  had 
fallen.  It  was  no  more  than  an  anteroom  to  the  vestry 
of  the  church,  though  quite  detached  from  it,  yet  one 
could  almost  feel  through  the  stout  south  wall  the  im- 
penetrable weight  of  darkness  which  had  settled  down 
within  the  great  building  beyond.  The  gloomy 
shadows  had  penetrated  here,  too,  for  although  the 
antechamber  contained  a  half  dozen  windows,  they 
were  shuttered  and  barred  against  every  hue  of  twi- 
light from  the  outside.  The  very  atmosphere  was  in- 
dicative of  the  sinister  nature  of  the  business  at  hand. 

To  the  front  of  the  room  a  sma|l  platform  stood 
surmounted  by  a  table,  surrounded  by  chairs.  Several 
men  occupied  these,  interested  in  a  conversation,  some- 
what subdued  in  its  tone  and  manner.  The  chairs, 
settees,  and  benches  throughout  the  rest  of  the  room, 
were  being  filled  by  the  so-called  volunteers,  who  en- 
tered and  took  their  places  with  an  air  of  wonder  and 
indecision.  Already  two-thirds  of  the  seats  were  taken, 
and  every  face  turned  and  re-turned  to  the  door  at 
every  footfall. 

The  small  door  to  the  side  was,  of  course,  barred; 

236 


THE  LOYALIST  237 

but,  in  response  to  the  slightest  knock,  it  was  opened 
by  an  attendant,  assigned  for  that  purpose.  Names 
were  asked  and  the  cards  of  admission  were  collected 
with  a  certain  formality  before  the  aspirant  gained 
admittance.  There  was  no  introduction,  no  hurry,  no 
excitement. 

"What's  your  name?"  the  man  at  the  door  was 
heard  to  say  to  one  who  already  had  tapped  for  ad- 
mittance. 

"Cadwalader,"  was  the  reply.  "James  Cadwala- 
der." 

"Got  your  card?" 

There  was  no  response,  only  the  production  of  a 
small  white  card. 

A  strong,  athletic  individual,  clad  in  a  checked  shirt 
and  a  red  flannel  jacket,  a  leathern  apron,  and  a  pair 
of  yellow  buckskin  breeches,  entered  and  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  about  the  hall.  His  eyes  fell  upon 
the  group  gathered  around  the  table  at  the  forward 
end  of  the  room.  Two  of  them  he  recognized,  Col- 
onel Clifton  and  John  Anderson,  the  latter  with  his 
back  to  the  audience.  There  were  many  familiar  faces 
in  the  chairs  throughout  the  room,  some  of  whom  had 
expected  him,  and  accordingly  gave  him  a  slight  recog- 
nition. Slowly,  and  in  a  manifestly  indifferent  manner, 
he  made  his  way  to  the  front  of  the  chairs  where  he 
seated  himself,  and  listened  sharply  to  the  little  group 
conversing  upon  the  platform  until  he  had  satisfied 
himself  that  there  was  nothing  of  importance  under 
discussion. 

The  room  was  filling  rapidly.  It  was  one  of  those 
mixed  assemblies  wherein  one  could  discern  many 
states  of  mind  written  upon  the  faces  of  those  present. 
Some  wore  the  appearance  of  contentment  and  com- 


23  8  THE  LOYALIST 

posure;  some  laughed  and  talked  in  a  purely  disinter- 
ested and  indifferent  manner;  others  looked  the  picture 
of  unrest  and  dissatisfaction,  and  wore  a  scowl  of  dis- 
appointment and  defeat.  These  latter  Stephen  recog- 
nized at  once  and  hurriedly  made  an  estimate  of  their 
number.  Together  with  the  neutral  representation  he 
seemed  satisfied  with  the  majority. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  of  all  was  the  silence. 
Not  a  voice  was  raised  above  a  whisper.  The  man  at 
the  door  at  the  side  of  the  hall,  the  little  group  away 
to  the  front  of  the  hall,  peeping  at  the  audience  and 
talking  in  subdued  tones,  the  people  in  the  chairs,  those 
at  the  back  of  the  hall, — all  seemed  to  hold  their 
tongues  to  a  whisper  for  interest  and  a  kind  of  fear. 
Drama  was  in  the  air. 

The  guard  at  the  door  advanced  to  the  front  of  the 
hall  to  announce  to  Mr.  Anderson  that  the  full  quota 
was  present.  Whereupon  the  latter  arose  from  his 
chair  and  swept  with  his  gaze  the  entire  room,  which 
the  dim  light  of  the  torches  only  partly  revealed. 
Satisfied  with  his  scrutiny,  he  turned  and  again  con- 
ferred with  his  associates  who  nodded  their  heads 
in  acceptance  of  his  suggestion.  They  sat  back  in  their 
chairs  while  he  came  to  the  center  of  the  platform  and 
awaited  the  cessation  of  the  hum  which  was  now  be- 
coming audible. 

"Let  me  begin  by  taking  further  assurance  of  your 
number,"  he  said,  "for  which  purpose  I  shall  call  the 
roll  of  names  to  which  I  respectfully  ask  you  to 
respond." 

Then  followed  the  reading  of  the  roll-call  to  which 
each  man  at  the  mention  of  his  name  signified  his  pres- 
ence in  the  room.  Stephen's  heart  fluttered  as  he  re- 
plied boldly  to  the  name  of  "James  Cadwalader." 


THE  LOYALIST  239 

There  were  eight  names  to  which  no  reply  was 
given.  These  very  likely  would  come  later,  or  perhaps 
they  had  reconsidered  their  action  and  had  decided  not 
to  come  at  all.  Those  present  numbered  eighty-six, 
Stephen  learned  from  the  count. 

"I  shall  take  this  opportunity  of  distributing  among 
you  the  papers  of  enlistment  that  you  may  read  the 
terms  of  agreement,  and  these  I  shall  ask  you  to  sign 
at  the  close  of  this  meeting." 

As  Anderson  finished  this  sentence,  he  passed  to 
several  aids,  a  bundle  of  papers  which  they  promptly 
dealt  out  to  the  members  of  the  proposed  company. 

Then  Mr.  Anderson  began. 

II 

"You  have  assembled  this  evening,  my  dear  friends 
and  co-religionists,  to  translate  into  definite  action  the 
convictions  by  which  you  have  been  impelled  to  under- 
take this  important  business.  Our  presence  means  that 
we  are  ready  to  put  into  deeds  the  inspirations  which 
have  always  dominated  our  minds.  It  means  that  we 
are  about  to  make  a  final  thrust  for  our  religious  con- 
victions, and  to  prove  that  we  are  worthy  descendants 
of  the  men  who  established  in  this  land  freedom  of 
religious  worship,  and  bequeathed  it  to  us  as  a  priceless 
heritage." 

This  Anderson  is  a  clever  fellow,  thought  Stephen, 
and  a  fluent  talker.  Already  his  eloquence  had  brought 
quiet  to  the  room  and  caused  those  who  were  fumbling 
with  the  papers  to  let  them  fall  motionless  in  their 
laps.  But  what  a  knave!  Here  he  was  deliberately 
playing  upon  the  sympathies  of  his  audience  in  the  role 
of  a  Catholic. 


240  THE  LOYALIST 

"We  have  signified  our  intention  of  taking  this  mo- 
mentous step,  because  we  are  of  the  undivided  opinion 
that  our  rights  have  been  attained.  We  have  accom- 
plished our  purpose  and  we  have  now  no  cause  for 
martial  strife.  No  longer  do  grounds  of  contention 
between  us  and  the  mother  country  exist.  Our  bill  of 
rights  has  been  read  abroad  and  honored,  and  over- 
tures of  conciliation  have  already  been  made.  The 
object  for  which  we  linked  our  forces  with  the  rebel 
standard,  the  happiness,  the  supreme  happiness  of  our 
country,  has  been  gained.  We  no  longer  desire  open 
warfare. 

"The  idea  of  an  American  Parliament,  with  its 
members  of  American  birth,  is  a  welcome  one.  It  is  a 
fitting,  a  worthy  ambition.  We  are  confident  that  we 
are  capable,  at  this  juncture,  of  enacting  our  own  laws 
and  of  giving  them  the  proper  sanction.  We  are  ca- 
pable of  raising  our  own  taxes.  We  are  worthy  of  con- 
ducting our  own  commerce  in  every  part  of  the  civil- 
ized globe  as  free  citizens  of  the  British  Empire.  And 
we  are  convinced  that  we  should  enjoy  for  this  pur- 
pose the  blessings  of  good  government,  not  necessarily 
self-government,  and  that  we  should  be  sustained  by 
all  the  power  requisite  to  uphold  it,  as  befits  free  and 
independent  children  bonded  together  in  a  concert  of 
purpose. 

"This  we  desire.  But  we  seek  also  that  freedom  in 
matters  of  religious  worship  without  which  no  nation 
can  attain  to  any  degree  of  greatness.  Under  a  gov- 
ernment conducted  solely  and  independently  by  the 
colonists  we  know  that  such  a  consummation  would  be 
impossible.  I  need  not  remind  you  of  the  deplorable 
state  of  affairs  which  obtained  previous  to  the  opening 
of  hostilities.  I  need  not  recall  to  your  minds  the  anti- 


THE  LOYALIST  241 

Catholic  declarations  of  the  Continental  Congresses. 
I  need  not  recall  to  you  the  machinations  of  John  Jay, 
or  the  manifest  antipathy  of  the  Adamses,  or  the 
Hamiltons,  or  the  Paines.  I  need  not  recall  to  you 
how  the  vaunted  defenders  of  American  liberties  and 
freedom  expressed  their  supreme  detestation  of  Cath- 
olics and  all  things  Catholic,  and  how  they  were  deter- 
mined that  the  nightmare  of  Popery  would  never  hold 
sway  over  these  free  and  independent  colonies  as  it 
does  even  now  in  Canada.  I  need  not  recall  how  the 
colonies,  with  the  sole  exception  of  this  colony  of 
Pennsylvania,  debarred  the  free  and  legitimate  exer- 
cise of  your  religion  within  their  bounds,  and  restricted 
its  public  ceremonies;  how  you  were  restricted  by 
oaths  required  by  law,  even  here  in  Pennsylvania, 
which  you  could  not  take  had  you  been  so  successful  as 
to  be  chosen  to  office.  I  need  not  remind  you  of  these 
truths.  You  already  know  them.  It  would  be  idle 
to  repeat  them." 

"This  man  is  exceedingly  dangerous,"  muttered  Ste- 
phen, "and  exceedingly  well-informed."  He  jotted 
down  several  notes  on  the  reverse  of  his  paper. 

"We  have  been  displeased  with  the  conduct  of  the 
war,  immeasurably  so.  And  we  have  lost  all  faith  in 
the  good  will  of  our  fellow-colonists,  in  matters  relig- 
ious as  well  as  in  matters  political.  They  have  refused 
to  treat  with  the  ministers  of  conciliation.  We  are 
about  to  join  our  forces  to  those  of  the  mother  coun- 
try in  order  that  we  may  render  our  own  poverty- 
stricken  land  an  everlasting  service.  We  are  destined 
to  take  our  places  among  a  band  of  true  and  genuine 
patriots,  who  have,  above  all  things  else,  the  welfare 
of  their  own  land  at  heart,  and  we  are  about  to  com- 
mit ourselves  to  this  course,  together  with  our  fortunes 


242  THE  LOYALIST 

and  our  lives.  Since  our  people  are  blinded  by  the 
avarice  and  the  prejudice  of  their  leaders,  we  shall  take 
into  our  own  hands  the  decision  and  the  fortunes  of  this 
war,  trusting  that  our  cause  may  be  heard  at  the  bar 
of  history  when  strict  judgment  shall  be  meted  out. 
We  have  broken  with  our  people  in  the  hope  that  the 
dawn  of  better  days  may  break  through  the  clouds  that 
now  overshadow  us." 

He  paused,  for  a  moment  to  study  the  temper  of 
his  audience.  There  was  no  sound,  and  so  he  con- 
tinued. 

"It  is  the  glory  of  the  British  soldier  that  he  is  the 
defender,  not  the  destroyer,  of  the  civil  and  the  relig- 
ious rights  of  the  people.  Witness  the  tolerant  care  of 
your  mother  country  in  the  bestowal  of  religious  liber- 
ties to  the  inhabitants  of  our  once  oppressed  neighbor, 
Canada.  The  Quebec  Act  was  the  greatest  concession 
ever  granted  in  the  history  of  the  British  Parliament, 
and  it  secured  for  the  Canadians  the  freedom  of  that 
worship  so  dear  and  so  precious  to  them.  So  great 
was  the  tolerance  granted  to  the  Catholics  of  the 
North,  that  your  fellow-colonists  flew  to  arms  lest  a 
similar  concession  be  made  here.  It  was  the  last  straw 
that  broke  the  bonds  of  unity.  For,  henceforth,  it  was 
decreed  that  only  a  complete  and  independent  separa- 
tion from  the  British  Parliament  could  secure  to  the 
people  the  practice  of  the  Protestant  faith. 

"Now  we  come  to  the  real  purpose  of  this  organiza- 
tion. We  are  about  to  pledge  ourselves  to  the  restora- 
tion of  our  faith  through  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the 
British  arms.  Nobody  outside  of  America  believes 
that  she  can  ever  make  good  her  claims  of  independ- 
ence. No  one  has  ever  taken  seriously  her  attempt  at 
self-government.  France,  alone,  actuated  by  that  an- 


THE  LOYALIST  243 

cient  hatred  for  England,  inspired  by  the  lust  of  con- 
quest and  the  greed  of  spoliation,  has  sent  her  ships  to 
our  aid.  But  has  she  furnished  the  Colonies  with  a 
superior  force  of  arms?  Has  she  rendered  herself 
liable  for  any  indebtedness?  Your  mother  country 
alone  has  made  this  benign  offer  to  you,  and  it  is  to  her 
alone  that  you  can  look  and  be  assured  of  any  recon- 
ciliation and  peace. 

"Victory,  once  assured,  will  establish  peace  and 
everksting  happiness.  Victory,  now  made  possible 
only  by  the  force  of  arms,  will  assure  us  toleration  in 
religious  matters.  And  why  not?  This  fratWidal 
strife  should  not  occasion  any  personal  hatred»/Kng- 
land  is  not  our  foe,  but  our  mother  in  arms  Against 
whom  we  have  conceived  an  unjust  grievance.  Let  us 
lay  aside  our  guns  for  the  olive.  Since  our  fellow- 
citizens  will  not  accept  just  terms  of  conciliation  let  us 
compel  them  to  do  so  by  the  strength  of  our  arms. 

"Tomorrow  we  embark  for  New  York  at  the  place 
of  landing  indicated  on  the  papers  of  enlistment.  There 
we  shall  be  incorporated  into  a  regiment  of  a  thousand 
men.  The  recruiting  there  has  met  with  unlooked-for 
success.  Colonel  Clifton  reports  that  the  ranks  al- 
ready are  filled.  Your  admission  alone  is  required,  and 
the  ship,  which  will  bear  you  down  the  waters  of  the 
Susquehanna  tomorrow,  will  carry  a  message  of  cheer 
to  them  who  have  already  entrusted  themselves,  their 
destinies,  their  all  to  the  realization  of  our  common 
hope. 

"You  will  now  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
government  of  His  Majesty,  which  I  shall  administer 
to  you  in  a  body.  Tomorrow  at  the  hour  of  eight  I 
shall  meet  you  at  the  pier  of  embarkation.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  accompany  you  to  reveal  to  you  my  interest 


244  THE  LOYALIST 

in  your  behalf.  Only  with  a  united  front  can  we  hope 
for  success  and  to  this  purpose  we  have  dedicated  our 
lives  and  our  fortunes.  I  shall  ask  you  to  rise  to  a 
man,  with  your  right  arm  upraised,  to  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  your  king." 


Ill 

The  spell  that  held  them  broke,  and  the  bustle  be- 
gan. A  mumble  filled  the  room,  followed  by  moments 
of  animated  discussion.  Neighbor  spoke  to  neighbor 
in  terms  of  approval  or  plied  him  with  questions  men- 
acing and  entreating.  Anderson  maintained  his  com- 
posure to  allow  them  to  settle  again  into  a  period  of 
quietude  before  the  administration  of  the  oath.  At 
length  Stephen  arose  as  if  to  question,  and  was  given 
permission  to  speak  by  the  chairman,  Mr.  Anderson. 

"What  immunity  does  His  Majesty's  Government 
guarantee  to  us  after  the  war?" 

"The  usual  guarantee  will  of  course  be  made,"  An- 
derson replied. 

"Does  that  mean  that  we  shall  be  reestablished  in 
the  good-will  of  our  fellow-citizens?"  Stephen  again 
inquired. 

"Unquestionably.  When  the  colonists  see  the  im- 
mense benefits  which  they  have  acquired,  they  will 
readily  condone  all  wrongs." 

Intense  interest  was  already  manifest  throughout 
the  room.  Faces  were  eagerly  bent  forward  lest  a 
word  be  lost. 

"Such  considerations,  however,  are  irrelevant  to  our 
purpose,"  dismissed  Anderson  with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

"But  it  is  of  vital  consequence  to  us.  We  must  re- 
turn to  our  people  to  live  with  them,  and  we  cannot  live 


THE  LOYALIST  245 

in  an  atmosphere  of  hatred.  Who  knows  that  our 
lives  may  not  be  placed  in  jeopardy!  My  question 
deals  with  this.  Will  any  provision  be  made  against 
such  a  contingency?" 

"It  is  too  early  to  discuss  the  final  settlement,  but 
you  have  my  assurance  that  suitable  protection  will  be 
given." 

"Your  assurance?"  repeated  Stephen.  "What 
amount  of  assurance  may  you  offer  to  us,  you  who  ad- 
mittedly are  one  of  ourselves?" 

"I  consider  that  an  impertinent  question,  sir,  and  in 
no  way  connected  with  the  business  before  us." 

"It  is  of  vital  concern  to  us,  I  should  say;  and  I  for 
one  am  desirous  of  knowing  more  about  this  affair 
before  yielding  my  consent." 

"You  have  signed  your  papers  of  enlistment  already, 
I  believe.  There  is  no  further  course  then  for  you  to 
pursue." 

There  was  a  rustle  among  the  seats.  Some  had 
begun  to  realize  their  fate;  some  had  realized  it  from 
the  start  but  were  powerless  to  prevent  it.  Two  or 
three  faces  turned  a  shade  paler,  and  they  became 
profoundly  silent.  The  others,  too,  held  their  tongues 
to  await  the  result  of  the  controversy.  For  here  was 
a  matter  of  vital  concern  to  all.  Up  to  now  very  few 
deserters,  especially  among  the  Catholics,  had  been 
discovered  among  the  American  forces.  They  had 
heard  of  an  individual  or  two  surrendering  himself  to 
the  enemy,  or  of  whole  families  going  over  to  the  other 
side  in  order  to  retain  their  possessions  and  lands. 
But  a  mutiny  was  another  matter  altogether.  What 
if  they  failed  and  the  Colonists  gained  their  independ- 
ence! 

"I  suppose  we  are  powerless,"  admitted  Stephen  in 


246  THE  LOYALIST 

a  low  tone  of  voice  as  he  watched  the  effect  of  his 
words  on  the  gathering.  "We  are  confronted,"  he  con- 
tinued, "with  the  dilemma  of  estrangement  no  matter 
what  side  gains." 

"England  can't  lose,"  interrupted  Colonel  Clifton, 
who  heretofore  had  been  seated,  an  attentive  observer. 
"And  with  victory  comes  the  establishment  of  the  will 
of  the  conqueror.  Care  will  be  taken  that  there  shall 
be  adequate  reparation." 

"Very  good!"  answered  Stephen.  "Now  together 
with  that  privilege  of  immunity,  can  we  be  assured  of 
the  extension  of  the  Quebec  Act?  Has  England  so 
decreed?" 

"Not  yet,"  Anderson  admitted,  "but  that  extension, 
or  one  equal  to  it,  will  be  made  one  of  the  conditions 
of  peace." 

"We  are  sure  of  that,  then?" 

"Well,  we  are  not  sure,  but  it  is  only  logical  to  infer 
such  a  condescension  will  be  made." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  for  the 
English  Parliament  may  be  of  another  mind  when 
peace  and  victory  have  been  established." 

"You  are  interrupting  the  meeting.  Please  let  us 
continue  with  our  business,"  Anderson  sharply  re- 
proved him. 

"I  speak  for  my  fellow-citizens  here,"  said  Stephen 
as  he  turned  toward  them  with  an  appealing  gesture, 
"and  I  maintain  that  it  is  our  privilege  to  know  certain 
matters  before  we  transfer  our  allegiance." 

It  was  now  plain  to  the  company  that  Anderson 
was  worried.  His  white  thin  lips  were  firmly  com- 
pressed as  the  wrath  in  his  heart  blazed  within  him. 
He  was  aghast  at  the  blow.  It  had  come  from  a 
quarter  wholly  unexpected.  That  this  fellow  in  these 


THE  LOYALIST  247 

shabby  clothes  should  be  gifted  with  a  freedom  of 
speech  such  as  to  confound  him  when  he  thought  his 
plans  realized  to  the  letter,  was  astounding.  Why, 
he  might  sway  the  minds  of  the  entire  assembly!  Bet- 
ter to  silence  him  at  once,  or  better  still  banish  him 
from  the  hall  than  to  cope  with  the  possibility  of  los- 
ing the  entire  multitude. 

"You  have  interrupted  this  meeting  more  than  I 
care  to  have  you,  sir.  If  you  will  kindly  allow  me  to 
proceed  with  the  business  before  the  house  I  shall 
consider  it  a  favor." 

"I  ask  my  fellow-citizens  here,"  shouted  Stephen  by 
way  of  reply,  "if  you  or  any  man  possesses  the  right 
to  deprive  us  of  free  speech,  especially  at  a  time  as 
momentous  as  this.  I  ask  you,  my  friends,  if  I  may 
continue?" 

"Yes!  .  .  .  Goon!  .  .  .  We  will  hear  you  I  .  .  ." 
were  the  several  acclamations  from  the  throng. 

Anderson  heard  it  with  perceptible  confusion  He 
fumbled  nervously  with  his  fingers,  wholly  ignorant  of 
what  to  say. 

"Let  me  ask,  then,"  said  Stephen,  "if  the  idea  of 
independence  is  wholly  exclusive  of  religious  tolera- 
tion. Why  are  we,  a  mere  handful  of  men,  about  to 
pledge  ourselves  to  the  accomplishment  by  force  of 
arms  what  already  is  accomplished  in  our  very  midst? 
Freedom  of  religious  worship  is  already  assured.  The 
several  actions  of  the  colonial  governing  bodies  lend 
us  that  assurance.  England  can  do  no  more  for  us 
than  already  has  been  done;  and  what  has  been  done 
by  the  Colonies  will  be  guaranteed  by  the  elective  body 
of  the  people  in  the  days  of  independence.  I  am  fear- 
ful of  the  hazards  that  will  accompany  this  enlistment. 
Give  me  leave  to  address  you  on  this  topic  that  you 


248  THE  LOYALIST 

may  understand  my  troubled  state  of  mind.  I  appeal 
to  you.  Give  me  leave  to  talk." 

Whether  it  was  the  spontaneous  sound  issuing  from 
the  ranks  of  those  already  initiated  into  the  secret,  or 
whether  a  chord  already  attuned  in  the  hearts  and 
minds  of  the  entire  assembly,  had  been  marvelously 
struck  by  him,  there  was  a  reverberation  of  approval 
throughout  the  room  in  answer  to  Stephen's  plea.  So 
unanimous  was  the  demonstration  that  Anderson  took 
alarm.  The  air  of  democracy  was  revealing  itself  in 
their  instinctive  enthusiasm.  And  while  nothing  might 
result  from  Stephen's  rambling  remarks,  still  it  would 
afford  them  consolation  that  their  side  of  the  question 
had  been  aired.  To  a  man  they  voiced  their  approval 
of  the  privilege  which  had  been  begged. 

"Aye!  .  .  .Speech!  .  .  .  Take  the  floor!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 


"I  have  no  desire  to  make  a  speech,"  Stephen  began, 
"but  I  have  asked  for  this  privilege  of  addressing  you 
because  we  are  moving  through  critical  times  and  be- 
cause there  are  serious  decisions  to  be  made  this  eve- 
ning, which  it  is  neither  right  nor  possible  for  us  to 
make  without  a  full  consideration  of  the  state  of 
affairs.  I  have  devoted  much  serious  thought  to  this 
subject.  I  have  labored  to  arrive  at  a  just  conclusion, 
and  it  is  in  that  spirit  that  I  would  speak.  I  feel,  too, 
that  I  have  an  inalienable  right  as  a  free-born  citizen 
to  express  my  views  freely  and  publicly,  as  befits  a 
loyal  adherent  of  the  principles  which  we  are  now  de- 
fending with  our  blood.  And  first  among  those  prin- 
ciples is  that  which  guarantees  representation  in  all 
matters  that  are  of  vital  concern  to  us." 

He  had  not  left  his  chair  but  continued  to  talk  from 
his  place  beside  it,  turning,  however,  somewhat  in  the 
direction  of  his  audience.  Silence  reigned  throughout 
the  room  and  every  face  was  turned  full  upon  him. 

"I,  too,  had  accepted  the  terms  of  enlistment  on  the 
plea  of  the  acquisition  of  our  rights,  so  admirably 
exposed  to  us  by  our  good  friend,  Mr.  Anderson.  As 
I  pondered  the  matter,  however,  I  seriously  questioned 
whether  this  were  the  proper  time  for  the  employment* 
of  such  methods.  What  assurance  have  we, — if  in- 
deed assurance  be  needed, — that  this  is  not  another 

249 


250  THE  LOYALIST 

trick  of  the  enemy?  Bear  with  me,  please,  while  I 
unfold  to  you  my  thoughts. 

"Our  leader  and  our  guide  in  these  matters,  Mr. 
Anderson,  has  made  known  to  us  that  this  business  of 
recruiting  has  been  a  great  success.  But  did  he  tell  us 
of  the  sinister  methods  which  often  had  been  resorted 
to,  of  the  many  threats  which  had  been  exercised  over 
a  great  number  of  us,  of  the  debts  which  had  been 
relieved,  of  the  intimidation  which  had  been  em- 
ployed? He  declared  with  manifest  satisfaction  that 
the  recruiting  in  the  city  of  New  York  had  been  mar- 
velous in  its  results,  yet  he  did  not  explain  to  our 
satisfaction  the  reason  which  impelled  the  leaders  of 
this  revolt  to  seek  members  from  the  neighboring 
cities  to  help  swell  the  ranks;  nor  did  he  tell  of  the 
means  which  had  been  made  use  of  to  secure  that 
marvelous  number  in  the  city,  of  all  cities,  where  such 
recruiting  would  be  most  successful  because  of  the  pres- 
ent British  occupation  of  the  territory.  Furthermore, 
he  failed  to  tell  us  that  he  himself  is  not  a  Catholic, 
or  that  his  true  name  is  not  Anderson,  or  of  his  history 
previous  to  his  appearance  in  this  city.  Neither  did  he 
tell  us  that  Lieutenant-Colonel  Clifton,  while  a  Phil- 
adelphia Catholic,  is  a  British  subject,  having  accepted 
British  allegiance  on  the  capture  of  the  city  a  year  ago 
last  September.  There  were  many  items  of  importance 
which  were  not  revealed  to  us.  Shall  I  continue?  I 
have  an  abundance  of  facts  to  disclose  to  you,  if  you 
give  me  leave." 

So  favorable  had  been  the  impression  produced  by 
the  speech  of  Anderson  that  Stephen  felt  apprehen- 
sive lest  his  own  criticism  and  contradiction  would  not 
be  accepted  as  true.  And  so  he  paused  to  learn  if 
possible  the  nature  of  his  reception. 


THE  LOYALIST  251 

"Yes  I  .  .  .  We  want  to  hear  theml  .  .  .  Tell  us 
more!  .  .  ." 

There  was  a  wild  outburst  of  approval,  followed  by 
a  generous  handclapping  In  the  confusion,  Stephen 
observed  Anderson  together  with  Colonel  Clifton 
leave  their  places  on  the  platform  and  take  seats  on 
the  side  of  the  room. 

"It  is  quite  true  that  we  have  no  quarrel  with  the 
English  people.  We  have  no  quarrel  with  their  king 
or  the  framers  of  their  laws.  It  is  equally  true  that 
the  governments  of  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
Colonies  have  become  involved  in  a  military  struggle, 
a  struggle  to  the  death;  nevertheless  we  would  be  the 
last  to  imply  that  there  exists  any  essential  antagonism 
of  interests  or  purposes  between  the  two  peoples.  We 
are  not  engaged  in  a  contest  between  Englishmen  and 
Americans,  but  between  two  antagonistic  principles  of 
government,  each  of  which  has  its  advocates  and  its 
opponents  among  us  who  sit  here,  among  those  who 
live  with  us  in  our  own  country,  among  those  who 
reside  in  far-off  England.  The  contest  is  a  political 
contest,  the  ancient  contest  between  the  Whig  and  the 
Tory  principles  of  government,  the  contest  of  Chat- 
ham and  North,  and  Richmond,  Rockingham  and 
Burke  transferred  to  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  The 
political  liberty  to  which  we  have  dedicated  ourselves 
is  no  product  of  our  imaginations;  our  forefathers  of 
the  seventeenth  century  brought  it  to  our  shores  and 
now  we  naturally  refuse  to  surrender  it.  It  is  the  prin- 
ciple for  which  we  are  contending, — the  principles  that 
these  United  Colonies  are  and  of  a  right  ought  to  be 
free  and  independent  states;  and  in  all  matters  else  we 
are  loyal  foster  children  of  His  Majesty  the  King,  as 
loyal  and  as  interested  a  people  in  the  welfare  of  the 


252  THE  LOYALIST 

mother  country  as  the  most  devoted  subject  of  the 
crown  residing  in  the  city  of  London. 

"War  was  inevitable.  This  has  been  known  for 
some  time;  but  there  has  been  no  lack  of  cordiality 
between  the  people  of  the  United  Kingdom  and  the 
people  of  the  United  Colonies.  We  are  opposed  to 
certain  principles  of  statecraft,  to  the  principle  of 
taxation  without  representation,  to  the  same  degree  as 
are  the  Whigs  of  our  mother  country.  We  cherish 
the  warmest  sentiments  of  love  and  admiration  for  the 
English  people  and  we  are  ready  to  become  their 
brothers  in  arms  at  any  future  date  for  the  defense  of 
those  very  ideals  which  we  are  now  trying  to  estab- 
lish,— the  blessings  of  democracy;  but  we  abominate 
autocracy  and  will  have  none  of  it.  In  this  regard  we 
may  be  said  to  have  disinfected  our  anger,  but  never 
to  have  diluted  it." 

The  Tory  element  moved  about  in  their  seats,  and 
Stephen  suspected  for  a  moment  that  he  was  being 
treated  with  an  air  of  disdain.  He  shifted  his  point 
of  view  suddenly. 

"To  say  that  the  Catholic  people  of  this  country  are 
dissatisfied  with  the  conduct  of  the  war  is  begging  the 
question,  and  brands  them  with  a  stigma  which  they 
wholly  undeserve.  We  admit  for  the  sake  of  argu- 
ment that  our  early  cousins  may  have  proved  them- 
selves somewhat  intolerant,  and,  perhaps,  rendered 
conditions  of  life  disagreeable  to  us;  still  gold  must  be 
tried  by  the  fire.  We  grow  vigorous  under  storms  of 
persecution.  And  while  it  is  true  that  the  American 
Congress  of  1774  protested  against  the  legislature  of 
Great  Britain  establishing  a  'religion  fraught  with 
impious  tenets,'  yet  it  is  equally  true  that  the  Congress 


THE  LOYALIST  253 

of  1776  resolved  to  protect  'all  foreigners  in  the  free 
exercise  of  their  respective  religions.'  The  past  has 
been  buried  by  this;  the  future  lies  before  us. 

"We  do  not  grieve  on  that  account.  Rather  are  we 
proud  of  our  adhesion  to  the  cause  of  independence, 
and  you,  yourselves,  are  no  less  proud  of  your  own 
efforts  in  this  regard.  The  Commander-in-chief  is 
warmly  disposed  towards  the  Catholic  element,  not 
alone  in  the  army,  but  among  the  citizenry.  His  own 
bodyguard  is  composed  of  men,  more  than  thirty  of 
whom  bear  Catholic  names.  One  of  his  aides,  Colonel 
Fitzgerald,  is  a  Catholic.  His  Captain  and  Com- 
mander of  the  Navy,  nominated  and  appointed  by 
himself,  is  a  Catholic,  John  Barry.  We  are  appreci- 
ative of  the  services  of  our  General,  and  we  are  ready 
to  render  ourselves  worthy  of  the  esteem  and  the 
respect  in  which  we  are  held  by  him,  as  was  evidenced 
by  his  abolition  of  the  celebration  of  Guy  Fawkes  Day, 
so  detestable  to  us. 

"I  repeat  this  to  impress  upon  you  that  this  is  not 
the  time  for  religious  controversy  or  for  nicely  cal- 
culating the  scope  and  the  extent  of  our  service.  The 
temper  of  the  times  requires  unity  of  action  and  defi- 
nition of  purpose.  Our  people  respect  us.  Whatever 
restrictions  were  lodged  against  us  in  the  past  have 
been  broken  down  now  before  the  battering  ram  of 
public  opinion.  The  guarantees  for  the  future  given 
by  our  own  brethren,  that  we  shall  be  permitted  the 
free  and  unrestricted  exercise  of  our  religious  observ- 
ances as  well  as  the  right  to  worship  God  according  to 
the  dictates  of  our  own  consciences,  are  of  more  endur- 
able texture  than  the  flimsy  promises  of  the  enemy. 
Our  noble  and  generous  ally,  France,  already  has  pro- 
cured for  us  that  respect  and  recognition  so  indispen- 


254  THE  LOYALIST 

sable  to  our  safety  and,  contrary  to  the  opinion  already 
expressed  here  tonight,  has  sent  us  six  thousand  men, 
the  first  installment  of  an  army  of  at  least  twelve  thou- 
sand trained  soldiers,  destined  to  be  put  directly  under 
General  Washington's  command.  Together  with  these 
she  has  already  furnished  Congress  with  large  sums  of 
money  to  enable  us  to  carry  on  the  war.  The  dawn 
of  a  brighter  day  is  now  breaking  over  the  horizon 
and  in  the  east  the  sun  of  justice  and  of  toleration  and 
of  liberty  may  be  seen  breaking  through  the  low-hung 
clouds  of  oppression,  prejudice  and  tyranny  which 
have  so  long  obscured  it.  In  our  history  there  has 
been  no  coward,  no  Tory,  no  traitor  of  our  faith.  We 
are  still  Loyalists;  but  of  different  type.  That  precious 
and  historic  document  of  July  4,  1776,  definitely  and 
for  all  time  absolved  us  from  all  allegiance  to  the 
British  Crown.  By  nature,  then,  we  have  become 
citizens  of  a  new  government,  a  government  instituted 
by  and  subject  to  the  peoples  of  these  free  and  inde- 
pendent states.  Henceforth,  Loyalty  assumes  a  newer 
and  most  lasting  significance ; — it  has  suddenly  become 
for  us  synonymous  with  the  best  and  dearest  interests 
of  our  country." 
He  paused. 

II 

The  sigh  throughout  the  room  was  distinctly  audible 
as  he  ended  his  paragraph  with  a  rhetorical  pause. 
He  caught  the  sound  on  the  instant  and  understood  its 
meaning  as  the  orator,  holding  his  audience  in  breath- 
less intensity,  allows  them  to  drop  suddenly  that  he 
may  appreciate  his  control  of  their  feelings.  Their 
pent-up  energies  give  way  to  an  abrupt  relaxation 
followed  by  a  slight  scuffling  of  the  body  or  an  inter- 


THE  LOYALIST  255 

mittent  cough.  From  these  unconscious  indications, 
Stephen  knew  that  he  had  held  their  interest  and  he  did 
not  intend  that  they  should  be  allowed  to  compose 
themselves  quite,  until  he  had  finished.  He  began  at 
once  on  the  evidence  of  the  plot. 

"The  members  of  this  proposed  company  before 
whom  I  have  the  privilege  of  speaking,  have  been  the 
victims  of  a  gigantic  plot,  a  plot  that  found  its  origin 
in  the  headquarters  of  the  British  army  at  New  York 
City.  It  was  to  advance  the  plan  that  John  Anderson 
came  to  Philadelphia.  He  had  carried  on  communi- 
cation with  the  enemy  almost  without  interruption. 
Because  the  work  of  recruiting  in  the  city  of  the  enemy 
was  a  failure,  it  was  decreed  that  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia, as  the  most  Tory  of  the  American  cities,  be 
called  upon  for  the  requisite  number.  Of  the  progress 
here,  you  already  know.  Of  the  multifarious  means 
employed,  you  yourselves  can  bear  excellent  witness. 
Of  the  ultimate  success  of  the  venture  you  are  now 
about  to  decide. 

"The  Military  Governor,  General  Arnold,  was 
early  initiated  into  the  scheme.  For  a  long  time  he  has 
borne  a  fierce  grudge  against  Congress,  and  he  hoped 
that  the  several  Catholic  members  of  the  body  might 
be  induced  to  forsake  the  American  cause.  They 
sought  Father  Farmer,  our  good  pastor,  as  chaplain  of 
the  regiment,  but  he  refused  with  mingled  delicacy  and 
tact.  Indeed,  were  it  not  for  the  hostile  state  of  the 
public  mind,  a  campaign  of  violence  would  have  been 
resorted  to;  but  Arnold  felt  the  pulse  of  dislike  throb- 
bing in  the  heart  of  the  community  and  very  wisely  re- 
frained from  increasing  its  fervor.  All  possible  aid 
was  furnished  by  him,  however,  in  a  secret  manner. 
His  counsel  was  generously  given.  Many  of  your 


256  THE  LOYALIST 

names  were  supplied  by  him  together  with  an  estimate* 
of  your  financial  standing,  your  worth  in  the  commun- 
ity, your  political  tendencies,  the  strength  of  your  re- 
ligious convictions.  And  what  a  comparatively  simple 
matter  it  was  for  one  thus  equipped  to  accomplish  so 
marvelous  and  so  satisfactory  results! 

"I  repeat,  then,  General  Arnold  is  strongly  preju- 
diced against  us.  It  is  an  open  secret  that  Catholic 
soldiers  have  fared  ill  at  his  hands.  Tories  and  Jews 
compose  his  retinue,  but  no  Catholics.  I  am  not  critical 
in  this  respect  for  I  observe  that  he  is  enjoying  but  a 
personal  privilege.  But  I  allude  to  this  fact  at  this 
moment  to  assure  you  that  this  scheme  of  forming  a 
regiment  of  Roman  Catholic  Volunteers  is  directed 
solely  to  sulwrert  the  good  relations  already  existing 
between  us  am&  our  brethren  in  arms.  The  promises 
made  bore  no  hope  of  fulfillment.  The  guarantees  of 
immunity  deserve  no  consideration.  The  Quebec  Act, 
and  for  this  I  might  say  in  passing  that  we  are  duly 
grateful,  was  never  to  be  extended.  In  view  of  these 
observations,  I  ask  you:  are  you  willing  to  continue 
with  this  nefarious  business?  Are  you?" 

"No!"  was  the  interruption.  The  outburst  was 
riotous.  "Arrest  the  traitor!  ...  I  move  we  ad- 
journ! .  .  ." 

Stephen  held  out  his  hands  in  supplication  to  be- 
seech them  to  hear  him  further. 

"Please,  gentlemen!  Just  one  more  word,"  he 
pleaded. 

They  stood  still  and  listened. 

"Has  it  occurred  to  you,  let  me  ask,  that  the  vessel 
which  has  been  engaged  to  transport  you  to  the  city  of 
New  York  is  named  the  his,  a  sloop  well  known  to 
sea-faring  men  of  this  city?  She  is  owned  by  Phil- 


THE  LOYALIST  257 

adelphia  citizens  and  manned  by  a  local  crew.  Does 
not  this  strike  you  as  remarkably  strange  and  signifi- 
cant,— that  a  vessel  of  this  character  should  clear  this 
port  and  enter  the  port  of  the  enemy  without  flying  the 
enemy's  flag?  Think  of  it,  gentlemen!  An  American 
vessel  with  an  American  crew  employed  by  the  enemy, 
and  chartered  to  aid  and  abet  the  enemy's  cause!" 

They  resumed  their  seats  to  give  their  undivided 
attention  to  this  new  topic  of  interest.  Some  sat  alert, 
only  partly  on  the  chair;  some  sat  forward  with  their 
chins  resting  in  the  palms  of  their  hands.  So  absorbed 
were  all  in  astonishment  and  amazement,  that  no  other 
thought  gave  them  any  concern  save  that  of  the  vessel. 
The  side  door  had  opened  and  closed,  yet  no  one 
seemed  to  notice  the  occurrence.  Even  Stephen  had 
failed  to  observe  it. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  continued,  "the  ship  has 
not  been  chartered  by  the  enemy.  She  is  about  to  clear 
this  port  and  enter  the  port  of  the  enemy  by  virtue  of 
a  pass  issued  through  General  Arnold.  .  .  .  Please, 
just  a  moment,  until  I  conclude,"  he  exclaimed,  holding 
out  his  hand  with  a  restraining  gesture.  "This  matter 
has  heretofore  been  a  close  secret,  but  it  is  necessary 
now  that  the  truth  should  be  known.  To  issue  a  pass 
for  such  an  errand  is  a  violation  of  the  American  Ar- 
ticles of  War  and  for  this  offense  I  now  formally 
charge  Major-General  Benedict  Arnold  with  treason." 

"The  traitor!  .  .  .  Court-martial  him!  .  .  shouted 
several  voices. 

"I  charge  him  with  being  unfaithful  to  his  trust. 
He  had  made  use  of  our  wagons  to  transport  the  prop- 
erty of  the  enemy  at  a  time  when  the  lines  of  com- 
munication of  the  enemy  were  no  farther  distant  than 
Egg  Harbor.  He  has  allowed  many  of  our  people  to 


258  THE  LOYALIST 

enter  and  leave  the  lines  of  the  enemy.  He  has  illegally 
concerned  himself  over  the  profits  of  a  privateer.  He 
has  imposed,  or  at  any  rate  has  given  his  sanction  to 
the  imposition  of  menial  offices  upon  the  sons  of  free- 
dom who  are  now  serving  in  the  militia,  as  was  the 
case  with  young  Matlack,  which  you  will  remember. 
And  he  has  of  late  improperly  granted  a  pass  for  a 
vessel  to  clear  for  the  port  of  the  enemy.  I  desire  to 
make  these  charges  publicly  in  order  that  you  may 
know  that  my  criticisms  are  not  without  foundation. 
I  have  in  view  your  welfare  alone." 

"Aye!  .  .  .  We  believe  you!  .  .  .  Let  us  adjourn!" 

"Let  me  ask  Mr.  Aaderson  one  or  two  questions. 
If  they  can  be  answered  to  your  satisfaction  we  shall 
accept  his  overtures.  On  the  other  hand  let  us  dispense 
once  and  for  all  with  this  nefarious  business  and  frus- 
trate this  insidious  conspiracy  so  that  we  may  renew 
our  energies  for  the  task  before  us  which  alone  mat- 
ters— the  task  of  overcoming  the  enemy. 

"First!  Who  has  financed  the  organization,  equip- 
ment, transportation  of  this  regiment  of  Roman  Cath- 
olic Volunteers? 

"Second:  From  what  source  or  sources  originated 
the  various  methods  of  blackmail? 

"Third:  Who  first  suggested  the  cooperation  of 
General  Arnold? 

"Fourth:  What  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  in 
the  obtaining  of  the  passport  for  the  vessel  to  clear 
port?" 

HI 

But  there  was  no  Anderson  to  give  answer.  It  was 
found  that  he,  together  with  Colonel  Clifton  and  sev- 


THE  LOYALIST  259 

eral  members  of  the  party,  had  disappeared  from  the 
room.  No  one  had  remembered  seeing  them  take  their 
departure,  yet  it  was  observed  that  they  had  left  the 
platform  in  the  course  of  Stephen's  speech  to  take  seats 
on  the  further  side  of  the  hall,  near  to  the  door.  This 
might  have  opened  and  closed  several  times  during 
Stephen's  speech,  and,  more  especially,  at  the  time 
when  they  had  crowded  the  aisles  near  the  close  of  the 
address,  and  little  or  no  attention  would  have  been 
paid  to  it.  Very  likely  Anderson  had  taken  advantage 
of  such  an  opportunity  to  make  an  escape. 

It  was  a  very  different  room  now.  What  had  been 
a  state  of  remarkable  quiet  with  every  man  in  his  seat, 
with  the  conversation  hardly  above  the  tone  of  a 
whisper,  with  the  uniform  tranquillity  disturbed  solely 
by  the  remarks  of  the  two  speakers,  was  now  giving 
way  to  a  precipitous  uproar  which  approached  a  riot. 
Men  surged  about  one  another  and  about  Stephen 
in  an  endeavor  to  learn  the  details  of  the  plot.  Groups 
separated  themselves  from  other  equally  detached 
groups,  all  absorbed,  however,  in  the  same  topic. 
Voices,  formerly  hushed,  now  became  vociferous.  The 
walls  reverberated  with  the  tumultuous  confusion. 

"What  dupes  I"  one  was  remarking  to  his  neighbor. 
"How  easily  were  we  led  by  his  smooth  talk!" 

"We  were  misguided  in  our  motives  of  allegiance. 
We  might  have  sensed  a  trick  of  the  enemy,"  was  the 
reply. 

"Let  us  win  the  war,  first,"  shouted  a  third. 

"Aye I    Freedom  first;  then  religious  liberty." 

"Who  is  he?"  another  asked.  "It  cannot  be  Cad 
walader." 

"No,"    answered   the   neighbor.      "This   was   pre- 


260  THE  LOYALIST 

arranged.  He  borrowed  Cadwalader's  card  to  come 
here." 

"I  always  told  you  Arnold  was  no  good,"  sounded 
a  great  voice.  "He'd  sell  us  to  the  devil  if  he  could 
get  paid  for  it.  I  suppose  he'll  go  to  New  York  sure." 

"Let  him.    Wish  he  was  out  of  here." 

"Say!"  one  asked  Stephen  rather  abruptly.  "How 
did  you  get  all  this  straight?" 

"I  interested  myself  the  moment  the  scheme  took 
root.  I  assured  myself  that  all  was  not  as  it  should 
be  and  I  took  pains  to  verify  my  suspicions,"  was  the 
grave  reply. 

"I  know,  but  how  did  ye  get  'em?" 

"By  following  every  move  this  Anderson  made.  I 
tracked  him  even  to  Mount  Pleasant." 

"And  got  beforehand  with  Arnold?" 

"I  overheard  the  major  portion  of  the  conversa- 
tion." 

"Pardon  me,"  asked  another  individual,  neater  in 
appearance  than  the  majority,  and  evidently  of  more 
education,  "but  have  I  not  seen  you  before?" 

"Perhaps  you  have,"  laughed  Stephen. 

"Where?" 

"I  could  not  begin  to  imagine." 

"Where  do  you  live?    In  town?" 

"For  the  present,  yes." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"Can't  you  see?    Just  one  of  you?" 

"Never  saw  you  in  those  clothes  before.  If  I  am 
not  greatly  mistaken  you  are  the  one  who  came  to  the 
Coffee  House  one  day  with  Matt.  Allison." 

"Yes,"  admitted  Stephen,  "I  am  the  same.'* 

"How  did  you  come  by  those  clothes?" 

"Borrowed  them." 


THE  LOYALIST  261 

"In  disguise,  eh?" 

"It  was  necessary  to  simulate  a  disguise.  Otherwise 
I  could  never  have  gained  admission  here.  I  learned 
that  Jim  Cadwalader  had  been  impressed  into  the 
company  and  I  arranged  to  come  in  his  place." 

"Oh!" 

"You  took  a  mighty  big  risk." 

"It  was  required.  But  I  knew  that  there  was  but 
one  way  of  playing  this  game  and  that  was  to  defeat 
them  openly  by  their  own  tactics.  I  had  to  depend,  of 
course,  upon  the  temper  of  the  proposed  members. 
All  might  be  lost  or  won  at  one  throw  of  the  dice.  I 
worded  my  remarks  to  that  effect,  and  I  won." 

"What  did  you  say  your  name  was?" 

"I  did  not  say  what  it  was,"  Stephen  exchanged  in 
good-natured  repartee,  "but  since  you  ask,  it  is 
Meagher." 

"Captain  Meagher?" 

Stephen  smiled. 

It  must  have  been  fully  half-past  nine  when  the 
meeting  broke  up;  and  that  was  at  the  departure  of 
Stephen.  He  had  lingered  long  enough  to  assure  him- 
self that  the  company  was  of  a  mind  far  different  from 
that  which  had  engaged  them  upon  their  arrival.  They 
were  now  to  go  forth  wiser  men.  But  they  knew  that 
the  people  of  the  city  could  be  moved  quickly  to  indig- 
nation— as  quickly,  indeed,  as  they  could  be  moved  to 
favor.  And  how  were  they  to  explain  their  conduct? 
They  resolved  to  lay  the  story  with  all  its  details  be- 
fore the  very  table  of  public  opinion  and  allow  that 
tribunal  to  discriminate  between  the  shades  of  guilt. 

Anderson,  of  course,  had  fled.  That  in  itself  was  a 
confession  and  a  point  in  their  favor.  It  was  plain  to 


262  THE  LOYALIST 

their  minds  that  they  had  been  victimized  by  the  clever 
machinations  of  this  man.  If  there  had  been  any  lack 
of  unity  of  opinion  concerning  the  righteousness  of  the 
project  before,  there  was  no  divided  opinion  now. 
They  knew  what  they  were  about  to  do,  and  they  made 
all  possible  haste  to  puttheir  thought  into  execution. 

The  ancient  antip^hy  against  the  Military  Gov- 
ernor was  only  intensified  the  more.  Rumor  would 
confirm  the  charges  that  would  be  published  against 
him,  of  that  they  would  take  proper  care.  It  was 
enough  that  they  had  been  deluded  by  Anderson,  but 
to  be  mere  pawns  in  the  hands  of  Arnold  was  more 
than  they  could  stand.  Too  long  had  he  been  toler- 
ated with  his  Tory  wife  and  her  manner  of  living,  and 
now  was  an  opportunity.  Their  path  of  duty  was 
outlined  before  them. 

Thoroughly  satisfied  with  his  evening's  work, 
Stephen  turned  down  the  street  whistling  softly  to 
himself. 


CHAPTER  IX 


"Come!"  said  Stephen  in  response  to  the  soft  knock 
upon  his  door  panel.  "Just  a  minute." 

He  arose  from  his  knees  from  the  side  of  his  bed. 
It  was  his  custom  to  pray  in  this  posture  both  morning 
and  night;  in  the  morning  to  thank  his  Lord  for  having 
brought  him  safely  through  the  night  and  to  offer  Him 
all  his  prayers  and  works  and  sufferings  of  the  day. 
At  night  to  implore  pardon  for  his  shortcomings  of 
the  day  and  to  commend  himself  into  the  hands  of  his 
Creator.  This  morning,  however,  the  noise  of  heavy 
footsteps  on  the  stairway  had  caused  him  to  abbreviate 
somewhat  his  devotional  exercise. 

"Come  in!"  he  repeated  as  he  slipped  back  the  bolt 
and  opened  the  door.  "Oh!  Good  morning!  You're 
out  early.  How  are  you?" 

He  shook  the  hands  of  his  early  morning  visitors 
warmly. 

"Fine  morning!"  replied  Mr.  Allison.  "Sorry  to 
have  disturbed  you,  but  Jim  was  around  early  and 
desired  to  see  you." 

"Sure !  No  disturbance  at  all,  I  assure  you.  I  was 
on  the  point  of  leaving  for  breakfast." 

"Go  right  ahead.  Please  don't  delay  on  our 
account.  We  can  wait.  Go  ahead,"  expostulated  Mr. 
Allison. 

"We  want'd  t*  be  sure  an'  git  ye,  thet  wuz  all," 

263 


264  THE  LOYALIST 

remarked  Jim.  "Eat  first.  We'll  be  here  when  y*  git 
back." 

"Sit  down  and  make  yourselves  comfortable,"  and 
he  arranged  several  chairs  about  the  room.  "I  over- 
slept, I  fear.  Last  night  taxed  me." 

"You  did  justice  to  yourself  and  to  us  last  night. 
The  splendid  result  was  your  reward." 

They  were  seated,  Jim  by  the  window,  Mr.  Allison 
at  Stephen's  desk.  The  disorder  of  early  morning  was 
apparent  in  the  room,  the  furniture  disarranged  and 
all  manner  of  clothing,  bed  covering,  wearing  apparel, 
towels,  piled  or  thrown  carelessly  about.  No  one 
seemed  to  mind  it,  however,  for  no  one  paused  to 
rearrange  it. 

"It  wuz  a  big  night.  Tell  us  how  did  ye  git  along 
with  'em?"  asked  Jim. 

"Much  better  than  I  had  anticipated,"  Stephen  re- 
plied. "I  thought  that  Anderson's  talk  had  won  them 
entirely,  but  when  I  asked  for  the  floor,  I  saw  at  once 
that  many  were  with  me.  Had  you  instructed  them?" 
This  question  was  directed  towards  Jim. 

"I  did.  I  saw  a  doz'n  at  least.  You  know  they  had 
no  use  fur  th'  thing  and  were  glad  o'  th'  chance.  I 
made  a  big  secret  out  o'  it,  and  they  watch'd  fur  my 
olj  clothes." 

"I  thought  I  felt  their  glances.  They  stuck  true, 
you  may  be  assured.  I  knew,  too,  that  I  possessed  a 
reserve  blow  in  the  affair  of  the  Isis.  The  mention 
of  Arnold's  name  inflamed  them." 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  missed  that,"  Mr.  Allison  said. 

"How  did  they  avoid  you?"  Stephen  asked. 

"I  don't  know.  I  was  never  approached  although 
I  had  been  acquainted  with  the  rumors  of  the  thing 
right  along.  I  suppose  they  figured  that  I  would 


THE  LOYALIST  265 

threaten  them  with  exposure.  They  knew  where  I 
stood;  and  then  again  they  knew  that  they  could 
threaten  me  with  no  debts.  For  some  reason  or  other 
they  thought  best  to  avoid  me." 

"I  guess  we  killed  it  for  good." 

"Kill'd  it?"  exclaimed  Jim.  "It's  deader  'n  a  six- 
day  corpse.  An'  there's  great  talk  goin'  on  t'day  on  all 
th'  corners.  We're  right  wid  th'  peepul  y'  kin  bet,  and 
they  thought  best  to  avoid  me." 

"Have  you  noticed  any  agitation?" 

"There  has  been  a  little  disturbance,"  Mr.  Allison 
admitted,  "but  no  violence.  It  has  been  talk  more  than 
anything.  Many  are  wondering  who  you  are  and  how 
you  obtained  your  information.  Others  are  consid- 
erably taken  back  by  the  unveiling  of  Anderson.  The 
greatest  of  respect  is  being  shown  to  us  on  the  street, 
and  congratulations  are  being  offered  to  us  from  all 
sides." 

"I  am  glad  the  sentiment  has  changed.  It  now 
looks  like  the  dawn  of  a  better  day.  We  should  be 
spurred  on,  however,  to  greater  endeavor  in  the  mani- 
festation of  our  loyalty,  especially  among  the  minority 
Tory  element." 

Outside,  the  street  was  beginning  to  feel  the  impulse 
of  life.  Over  across,  the  buildings  shone  with  the 
brightness  of  the  morning  sun  which  was  reflected 
mildly  from  the  glassy  windows.  There  was  a  silent 
composure  about  it  all,  with  no  sound  save  the  foot- 
falls of  the  passing  horse  or  the  rattle  of  the  business 
wagon.  Somewhere  across  the  street  the  man  with  the 
violin  continued  his  fiddling. 

"Does  that  keep  up  all  day?" 

"Almost!    It  is  amusing  to  hear  Griff  swearing  at 


266  THE  LOYALIST 

him.  The  humorous  part  of  it  is  that  he  plays  but 
one  tune,  'Yankee  Doodle.' ' 

"Can't  ye  steal  it  some  night?"  asked  Jim,  uan' 
bust  it  over  's  head." 

"I  don't  care,"  laughed  Stephen,  "he  doesn't  bother 
me." 

The  door  opened  and  shut.  Sergeant  Griffin  en- 
tered, saluted  Stephen  and  took  the  hands  of  the 
visitors. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  boy?" 

"I  alwa's  said  he  wuz  a  good  boy." 

"The  fun  hasn't  begun  yet,"  announced  the  Ser- 
geant. "I  have  just  learned  that  the  City  Council  has 
met,  and  is  about  to  issue  formal  charges  against  Gen- 
eral Arnold." 

Stephen  whistled. 

"They  are  glad  of  this  opportunity,"  he  announced 
quietly. 

"Reed  never  took  kindly  to  him,  not  from  the  first 
day,"  declared  Mr.  Allison. 

"Well,  if  Reed  gits  after  'm  he'll  make  the  fur  fly. 
He's  a  bad  man  when  he  gits  goin'." 

"Did  you  say  they  had  met?"  Stephen  inquired. 

"I  understand  they  have.  The  affair  of  last  night 
is  being  talked  of  freely  on  the  street.  And  they  are 
talking  about  you,  most  of  all,  and  wonder  if  you  had 
been  sent  by  Washington  to  uncover  this.  One  thing 
is  certain:  Arnold  is  in  disgrace  and  the  sooner  he 
gets  out  of  here  the  better  it  will  be  for  him." 

"The  General  likes  'im  and  p'rhaps  '11  give  'im  a 
transf'r." 

"By  the  way!"  interrupted  Mr.  Allison.  "My  girl 
wants  to  see  you." 


THE  LOYALIST  267 

"See  me?"  Stephen  quickly  repeated,  pointing  to 
himself. 

"She  told  me  on  leaving  to  tell  you." 

"Very  well.     Is  it  urgent?" 

"No.     I  guess  not.    She  didn't  say  it  as  if  it  were." 

"Tell  her  for  me,  I  shall  go  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"What's  th'  next  thin'  t'  do?"  asked  Jim. 

"Matters  will  take  care  of  themselves  for  awhile," 
Stephen  replied.  "Anderson,  I  suppose,  has  left  town 
together  with  Clifton  and  the  others.  If  the  City 
Council  has  met  to  publish  charges  against  Arnold, 
there  is  nothing  to  do  but  await  the  result  of  these. 
The  people,  I  presume,  are  of  one  mind  now  and  if 
they  are  not  they  will  soon  be  converted  once  the  news 
of  last  night's  affair  has  reached  their  ears." 

"Are  you  going  to  remain  here?"  asked  Mr.  Alli- 
son. 

"I  am  going  to  take  some  breakfast,  first;  then  I 
shall  busy  myself  with  a  report.  I  may  be  busy  for 
several  days  away  from  the  city.  In  the  meantime 
I  would  advise  that  the  whole  affair  be  aired  as  much 
as  possible.  There  is  nothing  like  supplying  the  public 
mind  with  food.  Meet  me,  Jim,  at  the  Coffee  House; 
or  are  you  coming  with  me?" 

"Guess  I'll  go.     This  man  wants  t'  eat." 

n 

The  City  Council  did  meet,  as  rumor  announced  to 
Sergeant  Griffin,  and  immediately  published  charges 
against  David  Franks,  the  father  of  the  aide-de-camp 
of  the  Military  Governor,  charging  him  with  being  in 
correspondence  with  his  brother  in  London,  who  was 
holding  the  office  of  Commissary  for  British  prison- 


268  THE  LOYALIST 

ers.  He  was  ordered  to  be  placed  under  immediate 
arrest.  At  the  same  time  formal  charges,  partly  of  a 
military  nature,  partly  of  a  civil,  were  preferred 
against  the  Military  Governor.  Copies  of  indictment 
were  laid  before  Congress  and  before  the  Governors 
of  the  states,  who  were  asked  to  communicate  them 
to  their  respective  legislatures. 

The  press  became  wildly  excited.  Great  headlines 
announced  the  startling  news  to  the  amazement  of  the 
country.  For,  it  must  be  remembered,  Philadelphia 
was  the  center  of  government  and  colonial  life,  and 
the  eyes  of  the  infant  nation  were  turned  continually 
in  its  direction.  General  Arnold's  name  soon  became 
a  subject  for  conversation  on  every  side. 

None  took  the  news  more  to  heart  than  the  Gen- 
eral himself,  as  he  sat  in  his  great  drawing-room  with 
a  copy  of  the  evening  news  sheet  before  him.  Being 
of  an  imaginative,  impulsive  nature  it  was  natural  for 
him  to  worry,  but  tonight  there  was  the  added  feature 
of  the  revelation  of  his  guilt.  Reed  had  pursued  him 
relentlessly,  and  the  public  announcement  of  his  par- 
ticipation in  the  attempted  formation  of  this  detest- 
able regiment  only  furnished  the  President  of  the 
Council  with  the  opening  he  had  so  long  desired.  He 
re-read  the  charges  preferred  against  him,  his  name 
across  the  front  in  big  bold  type.  In  substance  they 
were  as  follows : 

First:  That  the  Military  Governor  had  issued  a 
pass  for  a  vessel  employed  by  the  enemy,  to  come  into 
port  without  the  knowledge  of  the  State  authorities  or 
of  the  Commander-in-chief. 

Second:  That  upon  taking  possession  of  the  city  he 
had  closed  the  shops  and  stores,  preventing  the  public 
from  purchasing,  while  at  the  same  time,  "as  was 


THE  LOYALIST  269 

believed,"  he  had  made  considerable  purchases  for  his 
own  benefit. 

Third:  That  he  imposed  menial  offices  upon  the 
militia  when  called  into  service. 

Fourth:  That  in  a  dispute  over  the  capture  of  a 
prize  brought  in  by  a  state  privateer  he  had  purchased 
the  suit  at  a  low  and  inadequate  price. 

Fifth:  That  he  had  devoted  the  wagons  of  the 
state  to  transporting  the  private  property  of  Tories. 

Sixth:  That,  contrary  to  law,  he  had  given  a  pass 
to  an  unworthy  person  to  go  within  the  enemy's  lines. 

Seventh:  That  the  Council  had  been  met  with  a 
disrespectful  refusal  when  they  asked  him  to  explain 
the  subject-matter  of  the  Fifth  charge. 

Eighth:  That  the  patriotic  authorities,  both  civil 
and  military,  were  treated  coldly  and  neglectfully,  in 
a  manner  entirely  different  from  his  line  of  conduct 
towards  the  adherents  of  the  king. 

A  further  account  of  the  Council  meeting  was  then 
given  wherein  it  was  stated  that  a  motion  had  been 
made  to  suspend  General  Arnold  from  all  command 
during  the  time  the  inquiry  was  being  made  into  these 
accusations,  but  it  had  been  voted  down.  Congress 
was  asked,  the  story  went  on,  to  decide  on  the  value 
of  these  charges  and  to  refer  them  to  the  proper 
tribunal,  the  necessary  amount  of  evidence  being  prom- 
ised at  the  proper  time. 

"The  fools!"  he  muttered.  "They  think  that  these 
can  hold  water." 

He  continued  to  read,  and  holding  the  paper  at  a 
distance  from  him,  gazed  at  it. 

"What  a  shame!  Every  paper  in  the  country  will 
have  this  story  before  the  week  is  out.  I'm  disgraced." 

He  fell  back  in  his  chair  with  his  head  propped  up 


270  THE  LOYALIST 

by  his  elbow.  In  his  other  hand,  thrown  across  the 
arm  of  the  chair,  was  held  the  paper.  His  brows  were 
contracted,  his  eyes  closed,  his  face  flushed  in  indica- 
tion of  the  tumult  that  surged  within  him.  His  mind 
was  engaged  in  a  long  process  of  thought  which  began 
with  his  memories  of  his  early  campaigns  and  traced 
themselves  down  to  the  events  of  the  present  moment. 
There  was  no  decision,  no  constancy  of  resolution,  no 
determination;  just  worry,  and  apprehension,  and  so- 
licitude, and  the  loud,  rapid  beatings  of  his  temple 
against  his  hand. 

"Suspend  me !  I'll  forestall  them,  damn  'em.  I'll 
resign  first." 

He  wondered  where  Anderson  had  gone  or  what 
fortune  he  had  met  with.  The  morning  brought  the 
first  report  of  the  disruption  of  the  meeting  and  of 
the  unknown  person  who  had  single-handed  accom- 
plished it.  There  must  be  a  traitor  somewhere,  for 
no  one  save  Anderson  and  himself  had  been  initiated 
into  the  secret.  Margaret  knew,  of  course,  but  she 
could  be  trusted.  Perhaps  after  all  the  man  had 
escaped  that  night.  Perhaps  it  was  this  very  person 
who  had  created  the  furore  at  the  meeting.  Who  was 
he?  How  did  he  get  in?  Why  were  proper  steps 
not  taken  to  safeguard  the  room  against  all  possibili- 
ties of  this  nature?  Bah!  Anderson  had  bungled  the 
thing  from  the  start.  He  was  a  boy  sent  on  a  man's 
errand. 

The  regiment  was  deftkjct.  To  speculate  further  on 
that  subject  would  be  futile.  It  never  had  existed,  as 
far  as  he  could  see,  except  on  paper,  and  there  it  re- 
mained, a  mere  potentiality.  The  single-handed  dis- 
ruption of  it  proved  how  utterly  deprived  it  was  of 
cohesion  and  organization.  That  one  man,  alone  and 


THE  LOYALIST  271 

in  disguise,  could  have  acquainted  himself  thoroughly 
with  the  whole  proceeding,  could  have  found  his  way 
with  no  attempt  at  interference  into  the  meeting  place, 
and  with  a  few  well-chosen  words  could  have  moved 
an  entire  audience  to  espouse  the  very  contrary  of  their 
original  purpose,  indicated  the  stability  and  the  temper 
of  the  assembly.  To  coerce  men  is  a  useless  endeavor. 
Even  the  Almighty  finds  it  well  not  to  interfere  with 
man's  power  of  choice.  They  might  be  led  or  enticed 
or  cajoled;  but  to  force  them,  or  intimidate  them,  or 
overwhelm  them,  is  an  idle  and  unavailing  adventure. 

Anderson  had  failed  miserably  and  his  conspiracy 
had  perished  with  him.  Not  a  prominent  Catholic  had 
been  reached  in  the  first  place;  not  a  member  of  the 
poorest  class  would  now  leave  the  city.  The  affair 
with  its  awful  disclosures  only  added  strength  to  their 
position,  for  whatever  aspersions  might  have  been 
cast  upon  their  loyalty  in  the  event  of  the  successful 
deportation  of  the  company,  were  now  turned  like  a 
boomerang  against  the  very  ones  who  had  engineered 
the  scheme.  The  community  would  respect  the  Cath- 
olics more  for  the  future.  They  were  to  profit  by  his 
undoing.  They  would  be  valued  for  the  test  that  their 
patriotism  had  stood. 

There  was  another  consideration,  however,  which 
wore  a  graver  complexion  and  tormented  him  beyond 
endurance.  This  was  the  solicitude  for  his  own  safety. 
The  people  had  hated  him  for  years  and  had  proceeded 
to  invent  stories  about  him  which  might  justify  its 
anger.  It  had  been  a  satisfaction  for  him  to  reflect 
that,  for  the  most  part,  these  stories  had  not  been  the 
causes,  but  rather  the  effects  of  public  indignation.  But 
what  answer  could  he  make  now,  what  apology  could 
he  offer  for  this  late  transaction,  this  conspiracy  at 


272  THE  LOYALIST 

once  so  evident  and  palpable?  As  far  as  the  question 
of  his  guilt  was  concerned  there  would  be  little  con- 
jecture about  that.  Ten  or  twenty  accounts  of  the  ven- 
ture, inconsistent  with  one  another  and  with  themselves, 
would  be  circulated  simultaneously.  Of  that  he  had  no 
doubt.  People  would  neither  know  nor  care  about  the 
evidence.  It  was  enough  that  he  had  been  implicated. 
He  would  ask  for  a  court-martial.  That,  of  course. 
Through  no  other  tribunal  could  a  just  and  a  satis- 
factory decision  be  reached,  and  it  was  paramount  that 
another  verdict  besides  that  pronounced/  by  public 
opinion  be  obtained.  Unquestionably,  he  would  be 
acquitted.  His  past  service,  his  influence,  his  character 
would  prove  themselves  determining  factors  during  his 
trial.  Fully  one-half  of  the  charges  were  ridiculous 
and  would  be  thrown  out  of  court  as  incontestable,  and 
of  the  remainder  only  one  would  find  him  technically 
culpable.  Still  it  were  better  for  a  court  to  decide 
upon  these  matters,  and  to  that  end  he  decided  to 
request  a  general  court-martial. 


Ill 

"You  have  removed  your  uniform?"  Peggy  asked 
in  surprise  as  she  beheld  him  entering  the  doorway  of 
the  drawing-room. 

"Yes,"  was  the  solemn  reply.  "I  am  no  longer  a 
confederate  of  France." 

He  limped  slowly  across  the  room,  leaning  on  his 
cane.  He  had  laid  aside  his  buff  and  blue  uniform, 
with  the  epaulets  and  sword  knots,  and  was  clad  in  a 
suit  of  silken  black.  His  hose  and  shoes  were  of  the 
same  color,  against  which  his  blouse,  cuffs  and  periwig 
were  emphasized,  a  pale  white. 


THE  LOYALIST  273 

"But  you  are  still  a  Major-General,"  she  corrected. 

"I  was;  but  am  no  longer.     I  have  resigned." 

She  started  at  the  announcement.  Obviously  she 
had  not  anticipated  this  move. 

"You  have  resigned?    When?" 

"I  wrote  the  letter  a  short  time  ago.  I  precluded 
their  designs." 

He  sat  in  his  great  chair,  and,  reaching  for  his  stool, 
placed  his  foot  upon  it. 

"But  ...  I  ...  I  don't  understand." 

"I  do  perfectly.  I  shall  be  tried  by  court-martial, 
of  course;  they  have  moved  already  to  suspend  me 
pending  the  course  of  my  trial.  I  want  to  anticipate 
any  such  possibility,  that  is  all." 

"But  you  will  be  reinstated?" 

"I  don't  know, — nor  care,"  he  added. 

"And  what  about  us,  our  home,  our  life  here,"  she 
asked  with  a  marked  concern. 

"Oh!  That  will  go  on.  This  is  your  house,  re- 
member, if  it  comes  to  the  worst;  you  are  mistress 
here.  This  is  your  home." 

"If  it  comes  to  the  worst?    To  what?'* 

"Well,  if  I  should  be  found  guilty  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 
sentenced." 

"I  should  not  stay  here  a  minute,"  she  cried,  stamp- 
ing her  foot.  "Not  one  minute  after  the  trial!  In 
this  town?  With  that  element?  Not  for  an  hour!" 

"Well!"  he  exclaimed,  making  a  gesture  with  both 
hands,  together  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"Where  is  Anderson?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"In  New  York,  I  presume,  ere  this.  I  have  not 
seen  him." 

"Fled?" 

"The  only  proper  thing.    It's  a  great  wonder  to  me 


274  THE  LOYALIST 

that  he  escaped  at  all.  I  should  have  expected  him 
torn  to  pieces  by  that  mob." 

"A  bungled  piece  of  business.  I  imagined  that  he 
was  assured  of  success.  A  sorry  spectacle  to  allow 
them  to  slip  from  his  grasp  so  easily." 

"Margaret,  you  do  not  understand  a  mob.  They 
are  as  fickle  as  a  weather-cock.  The  least  attraction 
sways  them." 

"Who  did  it?    Have  you  yet  learned?" 

"No.  A  bedraggled  loafer,  gifted  with  more  talk 
than  occupation.  He  was  acquainted  with  the  whole 
scheme  from  beginning  to  end,  and  worked  upon  their 
feelings  with  evidences  of  treason.  The  sudden  men- 
tion of  my  name  in  connection  with  the  plot  threw  cold 
water  on  the  whole  business.  They  were  on  their  feet 
in  an  instant." 

"You  are  quite  popular,"  was  the  taunt. 

"Evidently.  The  pass  inspired  them.  It  would  de- 
feat any  purpose,  and  Anderson  must  have  sensed  it 
and  taken  his  hurried  departure.  No  one  has  since 
heard  or  seen  aught  of  him." 

"He  was  a  fool  to  drag  you  into  this,  and  you  were 
as  great  a  fool  to  allow  it." 

"Margaret,  don't  chide  me  in  that  manner.  I  did 
what  I  thought  best.  But  I'm  through  now  with  these 
cursed  Catholics  and  with  France." 

"You  are  a  free  man  now,"  she  murmured. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  this  court-martial  relieves  you  of  any 
further  obligation  to  the  colonies,"  was  the  answer. 

"But  I  may  still  be  Second  in  command." 

She  paused  to  regard  him.  Did  he  continue  to 
cherish  ambitions  of  this  nature;  or  was  he  attempting 
to  jest  with  her? 


THE  LOYALIST  275 

"You  seem  to  forget  Gates  and  the  Congress,"  she 
said  with  manifest  derision. 

"No.    In  spite  of  them." 

She  lost  all  patience. 

"Listen!  Don't  flatter  yourself  any  longer.  Your 
cause  is  hopeless,  as  hopeless  as  the  cause  for  which 
the  stupid  colonists  are  contending.  You  are  now  free 
to  put  an  end  to  this  strife.  Go  over  to  the  enemy  and 
persuade  Washington  and  the  leaders  of  the  revolt  to 
discuss  terms." 

"Impossible!" 

"What  is  impossible?  Simply  announce  your  defec- 
tion; accept  the  terms  of  His  Majesty's  government; 
and  invite  Adams,  Franklin,  Jefferson,  Hamilton  and 
Washington  to  meet  you.  There  is  the  assurance  of 
all  save  complete  independence." 

"I  shall  wait." 

"For  what?  The  court-martial  will  be  against  you 
from  the  start.  Mark  my  words.  You  will  be  found 
guilty,  if  not  actually,  at  least  technically.  They  are 
determined  upon  revenge  and  they  are  going  to  have  it. 
You  saw  the  paper?" 

"I  did." 

"You  read  the  list  of  charges?" 

He  did  not  answer.  He  had  sunk  into  his  chair  and 
his  hands  were  clasped  before  him.  He  was  engaged 
in  a  detailed  series  of  thought. 

"How  many  of  them  were  artificial?  Except  for 
the  first,  that  about  the  pass,  none  are  worth  the  read- 
ing, and  the  first  never  can  be  proved.  They  have  no 
evidence  apart  from  the  fanatical  ravings  of  a  drunken 
Catholic.  But  wait!  You  shall  be  adjudged  guilty 
in  the  end.  See  if  I  am  not  correct." 


276  THE  LOYALIST 

"I  have  the  right  to  question  the  composition  of  the 
court!" 

"What  matter!  You  know  the  people  detest  you. 
They  have  hated  you  from  the  moment  you  set  foot 
in  this  city.  Every  issue  of  the  paper  found  some  new 
grievance  against  you.  And  when  you  married  me  the 
bomb  was  exploded.  You  yourself  know  that  it  was 
the  mere  fact  of  your  participation  in  this  scheme  that 
quelled  it.  They  loathe  you,  I  tell  you.  They  hate 
you." 

Silence  reigned  in  the  room  as  she  finished.  His  eyes 
were  closed  and  he  gave  every  appearance  of  having 
fallen  into  a  deep  sleep.  His  mind  was  keenly  alert, 
however,  and  digested  every  word  she  uttered.  At 
length  he  arose  from  his  composure  and  limped  to  the 
window  at  the  further  end  of  the  room. 

"I  shall  ask  for  a  new  command,"  he  said  quietly, 
"and  we  shall  be  removed  for  all  time  from  this  ac- 
cursed place.  I  shall  do  service  again." 

"Better  to  await  developments.  Attend  to  your 
trial  first.  Plan  for  the  future  later." 

"I  shall  obey  the  wishes  of  the  people." 

"The  people!  A  motley  collection  of  fools!  They 
have  eyes  and  ears  but  no  more.  They  know  every- 
thing and  can  do  nothing." 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do.    I  .  .  ." 

"I  told  you  what  to  do,"  she  interrupted  his  thought 
and  finished  it  for  him.  "I  told  you  to  join  Anderson. 
I  told  you  to  go  to  New  York  and  make  overtures  to 
General  Clinton.  That's  what  you  should  do.  Seek 
respect  and  power  and  honor  for  your  old  age." 

"That  I  shall  not  do.  Washington  loves  me  and 
my  people  will  not  desert  me  to  my  enemies.  The 
court-martial  is  the  thing." 


THE  LOYALIST  277 

"As  you  say.     But  remember  my  prophecy." 

He  turned  and  again  sought  his  chair.  She  arose  to 
assist  him  into  it. 

"I  wonder  who  that  fellow  could  be!  He  knew  it 
all." 

"Did  you  not  hear?" 

"No.  I  have  seen  no  one  who  could  report  to  me. 
The  details  were  missing." 

"Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  of  the  spy  in  the 
garden?" 

"I  did." 

"That  was  the  man,  I  am  sure.  You  know  his  body 
has  not  been  found,  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  was 
present  at  that  meeting  hall." 

"We  shall  learn  of  his  identity.    We  shall  learn." 

"Too  late!    Too  late!" 

He  again  dozed  off  while  she  watched  him.  For 
several  minutes  they  sat  in  this  manner  until  she  stole 
out  of  the  room  and  left  him  alone.  Soon  he  was 
wrapped  in  the  arms  of  a  gentle  slumber.  Some  time 
later  she  aroused  him. 


CHAPTER  X 


A  fortnight  later  there  came  to  the  Allison  home  a 
messenger  from  Stephen  in  the  person  of  Sergeant 
Griffin.  He  appeared  at  the  doorway  just  as  the 
shroud  of  eventide  was  being  enfolded  about  the  land- 
scape, changing  its  hues  of  green  and  gray  to  the  more 
somber  ones  of  blue  or  purple;  just  at  the  time  when 
the  indoor  view  of  things  is  about  to  be  made  apparent 
only  by  the  artificial  beams  of  the  tallow  and  dip. 

"Hail!"  he  said;  "I  have  business  with  Matthew 
Allison." 

"From  Stephen?"  Marjorie  asked  with  evident  in- 
terest. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"The  trial " 

"Oh  I"  exclaimed  Marjorie.  Plainly  she  was  re- 
lieved at  the  nature  of  the  message.  Then  she  turned. 

"Father!"  she  called. 

"I  am  coming  directly,"  cried  Mr.  Allison  from  the 
rear. 

She  had  clear  forgotten  to  invite  the  sergeant  into 
the  room,  so  absorbed  was  she  in  the  nature  of  the 
business  at  hand.  Expectancy  breeds  cowardice. 
When  great  issues  are  at  stake  every  act  wears  an 
awful  meaning.  For  this  reason  she  stood  transfixed 
at  the  threshold,  before  this  unexpected  arrival,  whom 
she  associated  with  the  image  of  Stephen.  With  the 

278 


THE  LOYALIST  279 

sudden  and  delightful  lessening  of  her  anxiety,  how- 
ever, she  bethought  herself. 

"Won't  you  come  in?  It  was  stupid  of  me  not  to 
have  asked  you  before." 

The  sergeant  acted  promptly.  Marjorie  followed 
at  a  little  distance,  but  had  no  sooner  entered  the  room' 
herself  than  her  father  came  through  the  other  door. 

"What  news?    Arnold?" 

"Found  guilty,"  was  the  response. 

"The  court-martial  has  come  to  an  end?"  asked  the 
girl. 

"Yes,  Miss.  And  he  has  been  found  guilty,"  he 
repeated. 

"I  thought  so,"  muttered  Mr.  Allison. 

They  were  seated  now  in  the  parlor,  the  two  men  at 
opposite  ends  of  the  table,  the  girl  at  the  side  of  the 
room. 

"They  met  at  Morristown?"  asked  Mr.  Allison. 

"Yes.  At  Norris'  Tavern.  Major-General  Howe 
was  chairman  of  the  court.  Only  four  charges  were 
pressed  for  trial:  the  matter  of  the  pass;  the  affair  of 
the  wagons;  the  shops;  and  the  imposition  upon  the 
militia." 

"And  Arnold?" 

"He  managed  his  own  trial,  and  conducted  his  own 
cross-examination.  He  made  an  imposing  spectacle  as 
he  limped  before  the  court.  The  sword  knots  of 
Washington  were  about  his  waist  and  he  took  pains 
to  allude  to  them  several  times  during  the  defense.  It 
was  astonishing  to  hear  his  remarkable  flow  of  lan- 
guage and  his  display  of  knowledge  of  military  law. 
He  created  a  wonderful  impression." 

"He  was  found  guilty,  you  say?"  interposed  Mr. 
Allison. 


280  THE  LOYALIST 

"Technically  guilty  of  one  charge  and  imprudent  in 
another,"  was  the  deliberate  reply. 

"And  sentenced?" 

"To  receive  a  reprimand  from  the  Commander-in- 
chief." 

Mr.  Allison  assented  by  a  move  of  his  head. 

"How  did  he  take  it?"  he  then  asked.  "I  cannot  im- 
agine his  proud  nature  to  yield  readily  to  rebuke." 

The  visitor  thought  for  a  moment. 

"His  face  was  ashen  pale;  there  was  a  haggard  look 
upon  it;  the  eyes  were  marked  with  deep  circles  and 
his  step  faltered  as  he  turned  on  his  heel  and,  without 
a  word,  made  his  way  from  the  court  room." 

"Were  you  present  at  the  trial?"  Marjorie  inquired. 

"Yes,  Miss  Allison." 

"Was  Stephen?" 

"No."  The  sergeant  answered  mildly,  smiling  as  he 
did  so. 

Marjorie  smiled,  too. 

"Tell  me,"  Mr.  Allison  asked.  "Was  the  evidence 
conclusive?" 

"The  his  occupied  the  court  to  some  length.  It 
was  contended  that  General  Arnold  had  issued  the 
pass  with  evil  intent.  The  affair  of  the  regiment  was 
referred  to  in  connection  with  this,  but  no  great  stress 
was  brought  to  bear  upon  it  because  of  the  fear  of 
arousing  a  possible  prejudice  in  the  minds  of  the  court. 
That  fact  was  introduced  solely  as  a  motive." 

Allison  shook  his  head  again. 

"It  was  proved,"  the  sergeant  continued,  "that  the 
his  was  a  Philadelphia  schooner,  manned  by  Phila- 
delphia men,  and  engaged  in  the  coastwise  trade.  The 
pass  itself  was  introduced  as  an  exhibit,  to  support  the 
contention  that  the  General,  while  Military  Governor, 


THE  LOYALIST  281 

had  given  military  permission  for  the  vessel  to  leave 
the  harbor  of  Philadelphia  for  the  port  of  New  York, 
then  in  possession  of  the  enemy." 

"That  was  proved?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Was  the  Regiment  alluded  to?" 

"Yes.     But  at  no  great  length." 

"And  the  pass?" 

"It  was  there.  The  Regiment  was  the  motive  for 
the  pass.  The  affair  of  the  recruiting  was  scarcely 
mentioned." 

There  was  an  abrupt  silence. 

"What  was  the  next  charge?"  Mr.  Allison  asked. 

"That  of  the  wagons." 

"Yes." 

"The  prosecution  made  a  strong  point.  Jesse  Jor- 
dan was  introduced.  Testimony  was  given  by  him  to 
the  effect  that  he  himself  had  drawn  back  a  train  of 
twelve  wagons  loaded  with  stores  from  Egg  Harbor." 

"Where?" 

"Egg  Harbor.  Where  the  traffic  between  the  Brit- 
ish Army  and  the  Tories  of  the  city  was  carried  on." 

"Was  this  sustained?" 

"The  General  denied  most  of  the  accusation,  but  he 
was  found  imprudent  in  his  actions.  In  regard  to  the 
other  two  charges,  that  of  the  shops  and  that  of  the 
militia,  absolute  acquittal  was  decided.  The  verdict 
was  announced  the  following  morning  and  the  sentence 
was  published  immediately  after  adjournment." 

"He  was  sentenced  to  be  reprimanded,  you  tell  me?" 

"Yes.     By  General  Washington." 

"That  will  break  Arnold's  heart.  He  will  never 
endure  it." 


282  THE  LOYALIST 

"Others  were  obliged  to  endure  it,"  sounded  a  soft 
voice. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  replied  the  father  of  the  girl.  "But 
you  do  not  know  General  Arnold.  Undoubtedly  the 
city  has  the  news." 

"Yes,"  said  the  sergeant.  "I  have  told  several.  All 
know  it  ere  this." 

II 

And  what  subject  could  possibly  afford  more  of 
concern  or  consequence  to  the  city  folk  than  the  court- 
martial  of  General  Arnold!  Those  of  the  upper  class, 
because  of  their  intimate  association  with  the  man; 
those  of  the  middle  class,  interested  more  or  less  in 
the  great  significance  attached  to  the  event  itself  and 
the  influence  it  would  exert  upon  the  future;  those  of 
the  lower  class  because  of  their  supreme  contempt  for 
the  erstwhile  Military  Governor  and  the  biased  man- 
ner of  his  administration,  all,  without  exception,  found 
themselves  manifesting  an  uncommon  interest  in  the 
progress  and  the  issue  of  the  trial. 

It  was  commonly  known  that  General  Arnold  had 
requested  a  court-martial;  but  it  was  not  so  commonly 
understood  that  the  matter  of  his  guilt,  especially  his 
collusion  with  the  Catholic  Regiment  and  the  matter 
of  its  transportation,  was  so  intricate  or  profound. 
Stephen's  speech  at  the  meeting  house  had  given  the 
public  the  first  inkling  of  the  Governor's  complicity  in 
the  affair;  still  this  offense  had  been  condoned  by  the 
many,  as  usually  happens  with  the  crimes  of  great  men 
who  occupy  stations  of  honor,  whose  misdemeanors 
are  often  enshrouded  and  borne  away  into  oblivion  be- 
neath the  veil  of  expediency  and  interest  of  the  com- 


THE  LOYALIST  283 

mon  weal.  A  court-martial  would  indeed  take  place; 
but  its  verdict  would  be  one  of  absolute  acquittal. 

To  hold  court  at  some  neutral  post  was  just.  No 
charge  of  unfairness  could  then  be  lodged.  Nor  could 
the  personnel  of  the  court  be  regarded  as  hostile  to 
the  accused,  for  the  latter  had  already  raised  an  objec- 
tion to  its  composition  which  had  been  sustained  and 
heeded.  The  charges  were  dealt  with  fairly,  only  four 
of  the  eight  counts  in  the  original  indictment  being 
allowed  to  come  within  the  jurisdiction  of  a  military 
tribunal.  Even  the  General  was  permitted  to  conduct 
his  own  trial  and  every  courtesy  and  attention  was 
granted  him. 

Only  two  charges  bore  any  evidence  of  guilt.  The 
pass  was  issued  with  deliberate  intent.  That  was 
proved  by  the  testimony  of  several  witnesses  as  well  as 
by  the  introduction  of  the  pass  itself.  Arnold  de- 
fended himself  on  the  ground  that  there  were  no 
authorities  in  the  city  of  New  York  to  be  offended  by 
the  entrance  of  the  vessel,  and  also  the  fact  that  since 
the  Commander-in-chief  had  lodged  no  complaint  over 
the  alleged  offense  to  his  dignity,  it  was  logical  to  infer 
that  His  Excellency  took  no  offense  at  the  order.  In 
regard  to  the  charge  of  misuse  of  the  government 
wagons,  it  was  revealed  that  traffic  had  been  carried 
on  between  Egg  Harbor  and  the  city  of  Philadelphia, 
and  that  full  loads  had  been  delivered  to  several  pri- 
vate families  of  the  city.  Arnold  denied  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  destination  of  these  wagons,  although  he 
was  aware  that  they  were  being  used. 

His  defense,  it  was  learned,  consisted  of  a  long  plea, 
in  which  he  rehearsed  in  detail  the  leading  events  of 
his  life.  He  was  fond  of  alluding  to  his  past  and 
entertained  no  diffidence  whatsoever  in  regard  to  his 


284  THE  LOYALIST 

own  abilities.  He  hoped  thereby  to  impress  the  court 
and  to  intimidate  them. 

The  charges  he  denounced  as  false,  malicious,  and 
scandalous,  inspired  solely  by  motives  of  animosity  and 
revenge.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  carry  on  a  war- 
fare with  women,  he  told  the  court,  nor  did  he  ever 
bask  in  the  sunshine  of  any  one's  favor.  Honorable 
acquittal  of  all  the  charges  brought  against  him  was 
pleasantly  expected  by  him  and  he  looked  forward  to 
the  day  when  he  might  share  again  with  his  fellow- 
soldiers  the  glory  and  the  dangers  of  the  war. 

But  he  was  not  acquitted,  and  the  verdict  of  the 
court  came  no  less  as  a  surprise  to  the  people  of  the 
city  and  of  the  nation  than  to  the  General  himself. 
The  following  morning  they  met  to  pronounce  the  ver- 
dict and  they  found  that  on  the  first  charge  Major 
General  Arnold  had  exceeded  his  rights  in  giving  per- 
mission for  a  vessel  to  leave  port  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  City  Authorities  or  of  the  Commander-in- 
chief;  and  as  such  he  was  found  to  have  violated  tech- 
nically Article  Five,  Section  Eighteen  of  the  American 
Articles  of  War.  The  second  and  third  charges  were 
dismissed,  but  he  was  found  to  have  been  imprudent  in 
his  temporary  use  of  the  wagons.  Because  of  his  guilt 
on  these  two  counts  he  was  sentenced  to  receive  a  repri- 
mand from  His  Excellency,  the  Commander-in-chief. 

He  left  the  court  room  without  a  word. 

Ill 

"It  is  precisely  what  I  fear  most,"  Mr.  Allison  said. 
"If  he  curried  less  the  favor  of  the  public,  little  or 
naught  would  come  of  it,  and  the  reprimand  would  end 
the  case.  But  you  know  Arnold  is  a  conceited  man; 


THE  LOYALIST  285 

one  who  carries  his  head  high.  Better  to  deprive  him 
of  life  itself  than  to  apply  vinegar  and  gall  to  his 
parched  lips." 

"His  return  will  be  hard,"  Sergeant  Griffin  ob- 
served. He,  too,  knew  the  character  of  the  man. 

"I  doubt  if  he  will  return.  He  has  resigned,  you 
know,  and  may  dislike  the  sight  of  the  city  which  wit- 
nessed his  misfortune.  Still  this  is  his  home  and  a 
man's  heart  is  in  his  home  regardless  of  its  environ- 
ment." 

"Do  not  forget  Peggy,"  Marjorie  reminded  them. 
"I  know  she  will  never  consent  to  live  in  the  city.  I 
know  it.  Dear  me!  The  shame  of  it  all  would  con- 
fuse her." 

"She  might  become  accustomed  to  it,"  replied  her 
father.  "All  school  themselves  to  the  mutations  of 
life." 

"Not  Peggy.  I  know  her.  She  will  not  forgive. 
Why,  I  recall  quite  vividly  the  violence  of  her  temper 
and  the  terror  of  her  wrath.  Her  own  aunt,  with 
whom  she  was  staying  for  a  brief  space,  took  occasion 
to  reprove  her  for  a  slight  indiscretion.  Peggy  re- 
sented the  correction  fiercely,  and  leaving  the  house  at 
once  vowed  she  never  would  set  foot  into  it  again. 
That  was  seven  years  ago.  She  has,  to  my  knowledge, 
never  violated  that  pledge." 

Her  father  shook  his  head. 

"I  see  it  all  quite  clearly,"  continued  Marjorie. 
"The  General  will  resent  the  wrong;  Peggy  will  nur- 
ture a  fierce  indignation.  Whatever  thoughts  of  re- 
venge will  come  to  his  mind  she  will  ably  promote. 
Have  a  care  to  her;  her  wrath  will  know  no  mitiga- 
tion." 


286  THE  LOYALIST 

"He  never  expected  the  verdict,"  the  sergeant  re- 
marked. 

"How  did  he  appear?"  asked  Mr.  Allison. 

"Splendid.  As  he  entered  the  court  he  laughed  and 
jested  with  several  officers  with  all  the  self-possession 
of  one  of  the  eye-witnesses.  Flashes  of  the  old-time 
energy  and  courage  were  manifest  at  intervals.  There 
was  jubilation  displayed  on  his  every  feature." 

"He  was  jocose,  you  say?" 

"Extremely  so." 

"Was  this  before  the  trial?" 

"Yes.    As  he  entered  the  Tavern." 

"Was  Peggy  with  him?" 

"No,  indeed.  It  was  not  permissible  for  her  to 
enter.  She  awaited  him  outside." 

"And  yet  he  maintained  his  composure  throughout." 

"He  seemed  to  take  delight  in  relating  the  resolu- 
tions of  Congress,  its  thanks,  its  gifts,  for  the  many 
campaigns  and  the  brilliant  services  rendered  his  coun- 
try. His  promotions,  his  horse,  his  sword,  his  epaulets 
and  sword-knots,  all  were  recounted  and  recited  enthu- 
siastically." 

Mr.  Allison  looked  at  Marjorie  and  smiled. 

"Only  once  did  he  lose  his  self-possession.  Near 
the  end  of  his  plea  he  forgot  himself  and  called  his 
accusers  a  lot  of  'women.'  This  produced  a  smile 
throughout  the  court  room ;  then  he  regained  his  com- 
posure." 

He  paused. 

"That  was  all?"  asked  Mr.  Allison. 

"I  think  so.  The  court  adjourned  for  the  day.  On 
the  following  morning  the  verdict  was  announced.  I 
came  here  direct." 

When  he  had  finished  he  sat  quite  still.     It  was  ap- 


THE  LOYALIST  287 

preaching  a  late  hour  and  he  saw  that  he  had  over- 
stayed his  leave.  Still  the  gravity  of  the  occasion 
required  it. 

It  was  these  thoughts  regarding  the  future,  far  more 
than  any  great  poignancy  of  grief  respecting  General 
Arnold  and  his  present  misfortune,  that  affected  this 
small  group.  It  seemed  to  them  that  the  events  which 
had  of  late  happened  were  not  without  grave  and 
serious  consequence.  General  Arnold  was  a  man  of 
prominence  and  renown.  To  lead  such  a  figure  to  the 
bar  of  justice  and  to  examine  and  determine  there  in  a 
definite  manner  his  guilt  before  the  whole  world  was 
a  solemn  piece  of  business.  It  meant  that  the  new 
republic  was  fearless  in  its  denunciation  of  wrong; 
that  it  was  intent  upon  the  exercise  of  those  precepts 
of  justice  and  equity  which  were  written  into  the  bill 
of  rights,  the  violation  of  which  by  a  foreign  power 
had  constituted  originally  a  set  of  true  grievances;  and 
that  it  was  actuated  by  a  solemn  resolution  never  to 
permit  within  its  own  borders  the  commission  of  any 
of  those  wrongs  which  it  had  staked  its  life  and  con- 
secrated its  purpose  as  a  nation  to  destroy.  General 
Arnold  was  a  big  man,  generous  in  service  to  his  coun- 
try, honored  as  one  of  its  foremost  sons,  but  he  was 
no  bigger  than  the  institution  he  was  helping  to  rear. 
The  chastisement  inflicted  upon  him  was  a  reflection 
upon  the  state;  but  it  also  was  a  medication  for  its  own 
internal  disorders. 

The  fact  that  the  ruling  powers  of  the  city  were 
bitterly  opposed  to  the  Military  Governor  was  not 
wholly  indicative  of  the  pulse  of  the  people.  General 
Arnold  was  ever  regarded  with  the  highest  esteem  by 
the  members  of  the  army.  A  successful  leader,  a 
brave  soldier,  a  genial  comrade,  he  was  easily  the  most 


288  THE  LOYALIST 

beloved  general  after  General  Washington.  With  the 
citizen  body  of  Philadelphia  he  was  on  fairly  good 
terms, — popular  during  the  early  days  of  his  adminis- 
tration, although  somewhat  offensive  of  late  because 
of  his  indiscretion  and  impetuosity.  Still  he  was  not 
without  his  following,  and  whereas  he  had  made  him- 
self odious  to  a  great  number  of  people  by  his  manner 
of  life  and  of  command,  there  were  a  greater  number 
of  people  who  were  ready  to  condone  his  faults  out 
of  regard  for  his  brilliant  services  in  the  past. 

His  enemies  gloated  over  his  misfortune.  Every- 
body believed  that,  and  it  was  commonly  understood 
that  General  Arnold  believed  it,  too.  But  would  he 
overcome  his  enemies  by  retrieving  the  past  and  put  to 
shame  their  vulgar  enthusiasm  by  rising  to  heights  of 
newer  and  greater  glory?  Or  would  he  yield  to  the 
more  natural  propensities  of  retaliation  or  despair? 
A  man  is  no  greater  than  the  least  of  his  virtues;  but 
he  who  has  acquired  self-control  has  founded  a  vir- 
tuous inheritance. 

With  thoughts  of  this  nature  were  the  trio  occupied. 
For  several  minutes  no  one  spoke.  Mr.  Allison 
leaned  against  the  table,  his  right  arm  extended  along 
its  side,  playing  with  a  bodkin  that  lay  within  reach; 
the  sergeant  sat  in  silence,  watching  the  face  of  his 
entertainer;  while  Marjorie  lolled  in  her  great  chair, 
her  eyes  downcast,  heavy,  like  two  great  weights.  At 
length  Sergeant  Griffin  made  as  if  to  go.  Marjorie 
arose  at  once  to  bid  him  adieu. 

"You  said  you  came  direct?"  she  reminded  him. 

"Yes,  Miss  Allison." 

"You  saw "  she  hesitated,  but  quickly  added, 

"Captain  Meagher?" 


THE  LOYALIST  289 

She  would  have  said  "Stephen"  but  bethought  her- 
self. 

"No,  Miss.     Not  since  the  trial." 

"He  was  not  present?" 

"No.  He  is  with  His  Excellency.  Several  days  ago 
I  saw  him  and  he  bade  me  come  here  with  the  report 
of  the  finding." 

"That  was  all?" 

"Yes,  Miss." 

"Thank  you.     We  can  never  repay  your  kindness." 

"Its  performance  was  my  greatest  delight." 

"Thank  you.     Good  night !" 

She  withdrew  into  the  hall. 


CHAPTER  XI 


More  sin  is  attributed  to  the  ruling  passion  of  a 
man  than  to  the  forbidden  pleasures  of  the  world,  or 
the  violent  assaults  of  the  Evil  One.  Under  its  dom- 
ination and  tyranny  the  soul  suffers  shipwreck  and 
destruction  on  the  rocks  of  despair  and  final  impeni- 
tence. It  frequently  lies  buried  beneath  the  most  im- 
perturbable countenance,  manifesting  itself  only  at 
times,  often  on  the  occasion  of  some  unusual  joy  or 
sadness.  It  responds  to  one  antidote;  but  the  antidote 
requires  a  man  of  coarse  fiber  for  its  self-administra- 
tion. 

In  this  respect  General  Arnold  was  not  a  strong 
man.  If  he  had  acted  upon  himself  wholly  from  with- 
out, as  if  he  were  not  himself,  and  had  cultivated  a 
spirit  of  humility  and  abnegation  of  self,  together  with 
a  considerateness  and  softness  of  manner  towards 
those  at  whose  hands  he  had  suffered,  he  would  have 
stifled  his  pangs  of  wounded  pride  and  self-love,  and 
emerged  a  victor  over  himself  in  the  contest.  He 
might  have  recognized  his  own  imperfections  to  a 
tolerable  degree  which  would  have  disinclined  him  to 
censoriousness,  not  to  say  rashness.  By  maintaining 
an  evenness  of  temper  and  equality  of  spirits  during 
the  days  of  his  sore  affliction,  he  might  have  recon- 
sidered his  decisions  of  haste  and  ultimate  disaster, 

290 


THE  LOYALIST  291 

and  be  led  to  the  achievement  of  newer  and  nobler 
triumphs. 

But  he  did  not.  Instead  he  gave  way  at  once  to  a 
violence  of  anger  which  was  insurmountable.  There 
was  engendered  within  him  feelings  of  revenge  of  the 
most  acrid  nature.  His  self-love  had  been  humiliated 
and  crushed  before  the  eyes  of  a  garrulous  world.  His 
vanity  and  his  prestige  had  been  ground  in  the  dust. 
There  was  no  consideration  save  the  determination 
for  an  immediate  and  effectual  revenge. 

"Don't  worry,  my  dear,"  Peggy  had  whispered  to 
him  on  the  way  home.  "Try  not  to  think  of  it." 

"Think  of  it?  ...  God!  I'll  show  them.  They'll 
pay  for  this." 

Apart  from  that  he  had  not  spoken  to  her  during 
the  entire  journey.  Morose,  sullen,  brutal,  he  had 
nursed  his  anger  until  his  countenance  fairly  burned 
from  the  tension  within.  He  slammed  the  door  with 
violence;  he  tore  the  epaulets  from  his  shoulders  and 
threw  them  beyond  the  bed;  he  ripped  his  coat  and 
kicked  it  across  the  floor.  No !  He  would  not  eat. 
He  wanted  to  be  alone.  Alone  with  himself,  alone 
with  his  wrath,  alone  with  his  designs  for  revenge. 

"The  cowards!    And  I  trusted  them." 

He  could  not  understand  his  guilt.  There  was  no 
guilt,  only  the  insatiable  lust  on  the  part  of  his  enemies 
for  vengeance.  The  execution  came  first,  then  the 
trial.  There  was  no  accusation;  he  had  been  con- 
demned from  the  start.  The  public,  at  whose  hands 
he  had  long  suffered,  who  reviled  and  oppressed  him 
with  equal  vehemence,  who  had  elevated  him  to  the 
topmost  niche  of  glory,  and  as  promptly  crumbled  the 
column  beneath  his  feet  and  allowed  him  to  crash  to 
the  ground,  now  gloated  over  their  ruined  and  heart- 


292  THE  LOYALIST 

broken  victim  with  outrageous  jubilation.  They  were 
on  destruction  bent,  and  he  the  victim  of  their  stupid 
spite. 

If  he  could  not  understand  his  culpability,  neither 
could  he  apprehend  fully  and  vividly  the  meaning  of 
his  sentence.  To  be  reprimanded  by  the  Commander- 
in-chief!  Better  to  be  found  guilty  by  the  court  and 
inflicted  with  the  usual  military  discipline.  His  great 
sense  of  pride  could  not,  would  not  suffer  him  to  be 
thus  humiliated  at  the  hands  of  him  from  whom  he 
had  previously  been  rewarded  with  so  many  favors, 
and  in  whom  he  had  lodged  his  most  complete  esteem 
and  veneration.  He  could  not  endure  it,  that  was  all; 
and  what  was  more  he  would  not. 

He  decided  to  leave  the  city  forever.  Then  the 
howl  of  contumely  could  not  pursue  him ;  it  would  grow 
faint  with  the  distance.  He  was  no  longer  Military 
Governor,  and  never  would  he  reassume  that  thankless 
burden.  He  would  retire  to  private  life  far  removed 
from  the  savage  envy  of  these  aspiring  charlatans. 
Unhappy  memories  and  wretched  degradation  would 
close  his  unhappy  days  and  shroud  his  name  with  an 
unmerited  and  unjust  obloquy. 

His  wife  had  been  correct  in  her  prognostications. 
The  court,  like  the  public  mind,  which  it  only  feebly 
reflected,  had  been  prejudiced  against  him  from  the 
start.  The  disgust  which  he  entertained  of  the  French 
Alliance  was  only  intensified  the  more  by  the  recent 
proceedings  of  Congress,  and  perhaps  he  might  listen 
more  attentively  now  to  her  persuasions  to  go  over  to' 
the  British  side.  He  would  be  indemnified,  of  course; 
but  it  was  revenge  he  was  seeking,  on  which  account 
he  would  not  become  an  ordinary  deserter.  He  had 
been  accustomed  to  playing  heroic  roles,  and  he  would 


THE  LOYALIST  293 

not  become  a  mere  villain  now  at  this  important  junc- 
ture. This  blundering  Congress  would  be  over- 
whelmed by  the  part  he  would  play  in  his  new  career, 
and  he  would  carry  back  in  triumph  his  country  to  its 
old  allegiance. 

Gradually  his  anger  resolved  itself  into  vindictive 
machination,  which  grew  in  intensity  as  it  occupied  him 
the  more.  He  might  obtain  the  command  of  the  right 
wing  of  the  American  army,  and  at  one  stroke  accom- 
plish what  George  Monk  had  achieved  for  Charles  the 
Second.  It  was  not  so  heinous  a  crime  to  change  sides 
in  a  civil  war,  and  history  has  been  known  to  reward 
the  memory  of  those  who  performed  such  daring  and 
desperate  exploits.  His  country  will  have  benefited  by 
his  signal  effort,  and  his  enemies  routed  at  the  same 
time  in  the  shame  of  their  own  confusion.  He  would 
open  negotiations  with  Sir  Henry  Clinton  over  an  as- 
sumed name  to  test  the  value  of  his  proposals. 

"They'll  pay  me  before  I  am  through.  I  shall  en- 
dure in  history,  with  the  Dukes  of  Albemarle  and 
Marlborough." 

As  he  mused  over  the  condition  of  affairs  and  the 
possibilities  of  the  situation,  he  wandered  into  the 
great  room,  where  he  saw  two  letters  lying  on  the 
center  table.  Picking  them  up,  he  saw  that  one  was 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Arnold,  the  other  to  himself.  He 
tore  open  his  letter  and  read  the  signature.  It  bore 
the  name  of  John  Anderson. 

II 

The  writer  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  arrived  in 
safety  in  the  city  of  New  York,  after  a  hurried  and 
forced  departure  from  Philadelphia.  The  meeting 


294  THE  LOYALIST 

was  terminated  in  a  tumult  because  of  the  deliberate 
and  fortunate  appeal  of  an  awkward  mountebank,  who 
was  possessed  with  a  fund  of  information  which  was 
fed  to  the  crowd  both  skillfully  and  methodically;  and 
by  the  successful  coupling  of  the  name  of  General 
Arnold  with  the  proposed  plot,  had  overwhelmed  the 
minds  of  the  assembly  completely. 

He  revealed  the  fact  that  the  members  of  the  court 
had  already  bound  themselves  in  honor  to  prefer 
charges  against  General  Arnold  in  order  that  the 
powerful  Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania  might  be 
placated.  He  did  not  know  the  result  of  the  trial,  but 
predicted  that  there  would  be  but  one  verdict  and  that 
utterly  regardless  of  the  evidence. 

"Hm!"  muttered  Arnold  to  himself. 

The  British  Government,  he  added,  was  already  in 
communication  with  the  American  Generals,  with  the 
exception  of  Washington,  and  was  desirous  of  opening 
correspondence  with  General  Arnold.  Every  one  knew 
that  he  was  the  bravest  and  the  most  deserving  of  the 
American  leaders  and  should  be  the  Second  in  Com- 
mand of  the  rebel  forces.  The  British  knew,  too,  of 
the  indignities  which  had  been  heaped  upon  him  by  an 
unappreciative  and  suspicious  people,  and  they  recom- 
mended that  some  heroic  deed  be  performed  by  him  in 
the  hope  of  bringing  this  unnecessary  and  bloody  con- 
test to  a  close. 

Seven  thousand  pounds  would  be  offered  at  once, 
together  with  an  equal  command,  in  the  army  of  His 
Majesty,  and  with  a  peerage  in  the  realm.  In  return 
he  would  be  asked  to  exert  his  influence  in  favor  of  an 
amicable  adjustment  of  the  difficulties  between  the 
colonies  and  the  mother  country.  General  Clinton  was 
ready  to  begin  negotiations  after  the  advice  and  under 


THE  LOYALIST  295 

the  conditions  proposed  by  General  Arnold,  which 
might  be  interchanged  by  means  of  a  correspondence 
maintained  with  a  certain  ambiguity. 

"Egad!"  He  set  his  lips;  then  he  turned  to  the 
beginning  of  the  paragraph.  The  offer  was  interest- 
ing. 

Anderson  then  went  on  to  relate  what  already  had 
been  suggested  to  him  during  the  night  of  their  con- 
versation in  the  park  at  his  magnificent  home,  the 
exigencies  of  the  country,  the  opportunity  for  a  master 
stroke  at  the  hands  of  a  courageous  man,  who  would 
unite  His  Majesty's  people  under  a  common  banner, 
and  who  might  command  thereby  the  highest  honors 
of  life. 

He  reminded  him  that  it  was  possible  to  obtain  a 
command  of  the  right  wing  of  the  American  Army,  a 
post  only  commensurate  with  his  ability,  which  com- 
mand might  be  turned  against  the  rebel  forces  in  the 
hope  that  an  immediate  end  might  be  made  of  the 
fratricidal  war.  There  would  be  no  humiliating  peace 
terms.  There  would  be  no  indemnities,  no  reprisals, 
no  annexations  nor  disavowals.  The  principles  for 
which  the  colonists  contended  would  be  granted,  with 
the  sole  exception  of  complete  independence.  They 
would  have  their  own  Parliament;  they  would  be  re- 
sponsible for  their  own  laws,  their  own  taxes,  their 
own  trade.  It  would  be  a  consummation  devoutly 
desired  by  both  parties,  and  the  highest  reward  and 
honor  awaited  the  American  General  who  bound  him- 
self to  the  effectual  realization  of  these  views. 

"Announce  your  defection,  return  to  the  royal  cause, 
agree  to  the  terms  which  His  Majesty's  peace  commis- 
sioners will  make,  and  earn  the  everlasting  gratitude 
of  your  countrymen,  like  Monk  and  Churchill." 


296  THE  LOYALIST 

So  the  letter  concluded  with  the  humble  respects 
and  obediences  of  John  Anderson.  Arnold  did  not 
fold  it,  but  continued  to  stare  at  it  for  several  minutes, 
as  if  trying  to  decide  upon  some  definite  course  of 
action  in  regard  to  it.  At  length  he  arose  and  limped 
to  the  desk,  and,  drawing  out  from  its  small  drawer 
several  sheets  of  paper,  began  his  reply.  » 

But  he  did  not  conclude  it.  Hearing  footfalls  in  the 
hallway,  he  hastily  folded  the  several  papers,  Ander- 
son's letter  included,  and  stuck  them  into  his  breast 
pocket.  He  sat  motionless,  with  the  pen  poised  in  his 
hand,  as  Peggy  entered. 

Ill 

"You  here?"  she  asked. 

He  did  not  reply,  nor  make  any  movement. 

"Another  resignation?  or  applying  for  a  new  com- 
mand?" 

He  now  turned  full  about  and  faced  her. 

"No.     I  was  just  thinking." 

"Of  what?" 

She  stood  before  him,  her  arms  akimbo. 

"Of  many  things.    First  of  all  we  must  leave  here." 

"When?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Well  then,  where?" 

"To  New  York." 

"Do  you  mean  it?" 

Now  she  sat  down,  pulling  a  chair  near  to  him  in 
order  that  she  might  converse  the  more  readily. 

"I  am  thinking  of  writing  for  a  new  command  in 
the  army." 

He  thought  best  not  to  tell  her  of  his  original  pur- 


THE  LOYALIST  297 

pose  in  writing,  nor  of  the  letter  which  he  had  re- 
ceived from  Anderson.  Whatever  foul  schemes  he 
may  have  concocted,  he  did  not  desire  to  acquaint  her 
with  their  full  nature.  Enough  for  her  to  know  that 
he  intended  to  defect  without  her  being  a  party  to  the 
plot. 

"Did  I  interrupt  you?  Pardon  me!"  she  made  as 
if  to  go. 

"Stay.  That  can  wait.  You  were  right.  They 
were  against  me." 

"I  felt  it  all  the  time.  You  know  yourself  how 
they  despise  you." 

"But  I  never  thought " 

"What?"  was  the  interruption.  "You  never 
thought?  You  did,  but  you  were  not  man  enough  to 
realize  it.  Reed  would  stop  at  nothing,  and  if  the 
colonists  gain  complete  independence,  the  Catholic 
population  will  give  you  no  peace.  That  you  already 
know.  You  have  persecuted  them." 

"What  are  they?  A  bare  twenty  or  twenty-five 
thousand  out  of  a  population  of,  let  us  say,  three 
million." 

"No  matter.  They  will  grow  strong  after  the  war. 
Unfortunately  they  have  stuck  true  to  the  cause." 

"Bah!  I  despise  them.  It  is  the  others,  the  Con- 
gress, Lincoln,  Gates,  Lee,  Wayne.  They  will  acquire 
the  honors.  Washington  will  be  king." 

"And  you?" 

"I'm  going  to  change  my  post." 

She  smiled  complacently,  and  folded  her  arms. 

"Under  Washington?" 

She  knew  better,  but  she  made  no  attempt  to  conceal 
her  feigned  simplicity. 

He  looked  at  her  without  comment. 


298  THE  LOYALIST 

Whether  he  shrunk  from  unfolding  to  her  the  sick- 
ening details  of  his  despicable  plan,  or  whether  he 
judged  it  sufficient  for  her  to  know  only  the  foul  begin- 
nings of  his  treason  without  being  initiated  into  its 
wretched  consummation;  whether  it  was  due  to  any  of 
these  reasons  or  simply  to  plain  indifference  or  per- 
haps to  both,  he  became  unusually  silent  on  this  subject 
from  this  moment  onward.  It  was  enough  for  her  to 
realize  that  he  had  been  shabbily  treated  by  the  Con- 
gress and  by  the  people,  that  he  had  long  considered 
the  American  cause  hopeless  and  had  abandoned  his 
interest  in  it  on  account  of  the  recent  alliance  with  the 
government  of  France.  In  her  eyes  he  thought  it 
would  be  heroic  for  him  to  resign  his  command,  and 
even  to  defect  to  the  side  of  the  enemy  on  these 
grounds, — on  the  strength  of  steadfastly  adhering  to 
his  ancient  principles.  He  knew  well  that  she  had 
counseled  such  a  step  and  was  enthusiastic  in  urging  its 
completion,  nevertheless  he  sensed  that  the  enormity 
and  the  depravity  of  his  base  design  was  too  revolt- 
ing, too  shocking,  for  even  her  ears.  He  would  not 
even  acquaint  her  with  Anderson's  letter  nor  with  the 
purpose  he  had  of  concurring  with  the  proposition  it 
contained. 

"Did  you  receive  a  letter  from  Anderson?"  she 
asked  suddenly. 

"Yes.  He  wrote  to  inform  me  that  he  had  escaped 
in  safety  and  is  now  in  New  York." 

"No  more?" 

"No.  He  did  comment  on  the  frustration  of  the 
plot,  and  expressed  a  desire  to  learn  the  identity  of 
the  disturber." 

"You  will  tell  him?" 

"Later.    Not  now." 


THE  LOYALIST  299 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Do  you  intend  to  take  active  part  in  the  coming 
campaigns?  You  know  your  leg  will  prevent  you  from 
leading  a  strenuous  life  in  the  field.  Why  not  ask  for 
some  other  post,  or  retire  to  private  life?  I  want  to 
get  out  of  this  city." 

"I  am  about  to  write  for  a  new  command.  I  have 
one  friend  left  in  the  person  of  His  Excellency,  and 
he  will  not  leave  me  'naked  to  mine  enemies,'  as  the 
great  Wolsey  once  said." 

"But  he  is  to  reprimand  you,"  she  reminded  him. 

"No  matter.  That  is  his  duty.  I  blame  the  people 
and  the  court  which  was  enslaved  to  them  for  my 
humiliation.  They  shall  pay  for  it,  however." 

"Let  us  leave  together.  Announce  your  desire  of 
joining  arms  with  the  British  and  let  us  set  out  at  once 
for  New  York.  Mr.  Anderson  will  take  care  of  the 
details.  You  know  his  address?" 

"Yes." 

"You  have  fought  the  war  alone;  end  it  alone.  Set- 
tle your  claims  with  the  government  and  let  us  sell  our 
house." 

"Our  house  ?  This  is  yours,  Margaret,  and,  by  God, 
they  shall  not  deprive  you  of  it.  No!  We  will  not 
sell  our  house.  This  is  yours  for  life,  and  our  chil- 
dren's." 

"Well,  we  can  rent  it  for  the  present.  For,  if  you 
go,  I  am  going,  too." 

"Very  well.  We  shall  see  what  the  future  holds  out 
for  us.  Give  me  that  stool." 

He  pointed  to  the  small  chair  over  against  her.  She 
arose  at  once  and  set  it  before  him.  He  placed  his 
foot  upon  it. 

"When  I  think  of  what  I  have  done  for  them  and 


300  THE  LOYALIST 

then  compare  their  gratitude.  Congress  must  owe  me 
at  least  six  or  seven  thousand  pounds,  not  to  mention 
my  life's  blood  which  never  can  be  replaced.  I  have 
been  a  fool,  a  fool  who  does  not  know  his  own  mind." 

"Didn't  I  predict  what  the  outcome  would  be?  I 
felt  this  from  the  moment  Anderson  left.  And  what 
were  you  charged  with?  A  technical  violation  of  the 
code  of  war.  There  was  no  actual  guilt  nor  any  evi- 
dence in  support  of  the  charge.  Were  the  least  shadow 
of  a  fault  in  evidence,  you  may  be  assured  that  it  would 
have  been  readily  found.  You  were  innocent  of  the 
charge.  But  you  were  technically  guilty  that  they 
might  plead  excuse  for  their  hate." 

"I  know  it,  girl  ...  I  know  it  ...  I  see  it  all 
now.  I  tried  hard  to  disbelieve  it."  He  seemed  sad, 
as  he  muttered  his  reply  and  slowly  shook  his  head. 

He  was  still  for  a  moment  and  then  sat  suddenly 
upright. 

"But  by  the  living  God!"  It  was  surprising  how 
quickly  he  could  pass  from  mood  to  mood.  Now  the 
old-time  fire  gleamed  in  his  eyes.  Now  the  unre- 
strained, impetuous,  passionate  General,  the  intrepid, 
fearless  leader  of  Quebec,  Ridgefield,  Saratoga,  re- 
vealed himself  with  all  his  old-time  energy  and  deter- 
mination of  purpose. 

"By  the  living  God!"  he  repeated  with  his  hand 
high  in  the  air,  his  fist  clenched,  "They  shall  pay  me 
double  for  every  humiliation,  for  every  calumny,  for 
every  insult  I  have  had  to  endure.  They  sought  cause1 
against  me;  they  shall  find  it." 

"Hush!  My  dear,"  cautioned  Peggy,  "not  so  loud. 
The  servants  will  overhear  you." 

"The  world  shall  overhear  me  before  another 
month.  Revenge  knows  no  limit  and  is  a  sweet  con- 


THE  LOYALIST  301 

solation  to  a  brave  man.  I  shall  shame  this  profligate 
Congress,  and  overwhelm  my  enemies  with  no  mean 
accomplishment,  but  with  an  achievement  worthy  of 
my  dignity  and  power.  They  shall  pay  me.  Ha !  they 
shall;  by  God!  They  shall." 

Peggy  arose  at  his  violent  outbreak,  fearing  lest  she 
might  antagonize  him  the  more.  It  was  useless  to  talk 
further,  for  he  was  enraged  to  a  point  beyond  all 
endurance.  She  would  leave  him  alone,  hoping  that 
he  would  recover  his  normal  state  again. 

She  walked  to  the  window  as  if  to  look  out.  Then 
she  turned  and  vanished  through  the  doorway  into  the 
hall. 

IV 

Several  days  later  a  courier  rode  up  to  the  door  and 
summoned  General  Arnold  before  him,  into  whose 
care  he  delivered  a  letter  from  the  Headquarters  of 
the  Commander-in-chief.  Strangely  excited,  the  Gen- 
eral failed  to  perceive  the  identity  of  the  messenger 
as  he  saluted  and  made  the  usual  brief  inquiries.  Only 
after  the  courier  was  well  down  the  road  did  the  mem- 
ory of  his  strangely  familiar  face  recur  to  him.  But 
he  was  too  preoccupied  with  the  document  to  give  him 
any  more  attention.  Breaking  the  seal  he  scanned  the 
introductory  addresses  and  read  his  reprimand  from 
his  Commander-in-chief,  a  reprimand  couched  in  the 
tenderest  language,  a  duty  performed  with  the  rarest 
delicacy  and  tact. 

aOur  profession  is  the  chastest  of  all,"  it  read. 
"Even  the  shadow  of  a  fault  tarnishes  the  luster  of 
our  finest  achievements.  The  least  inadvertence  may 
rob  us  of  the  public  favor  so  hard  to  be  acquired.  I 


302  THE  LOYALIST 

reprimand  you  for  having  forgotten  that,  in  propor- 
tion as  you  have  rendered  yourself  formidable  to  our 
enemies,  you  should  have  been  guarded  and  temperate 
in  your  deportment  towards  your  fellow  citizens.  Ex- 
hibit anew  those  noble  qualities  which  have  placed  you 
on  the  list  of  our  most  valued  commanders.  I  myself 
will  furnish  you,  as  far  as  it  may  be  in  my  power,  with 
opportunities  of  regaining  the  esteem  of  your  country." 
Slipping  it  again  into  its  envelope,  he  slammed  the 
door. 


PART  THREE 


CHAPTER  I 


In  one  of  those  wide  indentations  along  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  Schuylkill  River,  there  opens  out  in  tran- 
quil seclusion  a  spacious  cove.  The  waters  wander  here 
to  rest,  it  seems,  before  resuming  their  voluminous 
descent  to  the  Delaware  and  the  sea.  Trees  and  sap- 
lings wrapped  about  with  close-clinging  vines  hang  far 
over  the  water's  edge  like  so  many  silent  sentinels  on 
guard  before  the  spot,  their  luxuriant  foliage  weighing 
their  bending  twigs  almost  to  the  surface.  Green  lily- 
pads  and  long  ribboned  water  grass  border  the  water's 
curve,  and  toss  gently  in  the  wind  ripples  as  they  glide 
inwards  with  just  murmur  enough  to  lull  one  to  quiet 
and  repose. 

Into  this  scene,  placid,  clear,  though  of  a  deep  and 
dark  green  under  the  overhanging  leaves,  stole  a  small 
canoe  with  motion  enough  scarcely  to  ruffle  the  top  of 
the  water.  A  paddle  noiselessly  dipped  into  the  un- 
disturbed surface  and  as  noiselessly  emerged  again, 
leaving  behind  only  a  series  of  miniature  eddies  where 
the  waters  had  closed  after  their  penetration.  A  small 
white  hand,  hanging  lazily  over  the  forward  side  of 
the  tiny  craft,  played  in  the  soft,  limpid  water,  and 
made  a  furrow  along  the  side  of  the  boat  that  glistened 
like  so  many  strings  of  sparkling  jewels. 

305 


306  THE  LOYALIST 

"So  you  are  going  away  again  tomorrow?"  Mar- 
jorie  was  saying  as  she  continued  to  dabble  in  the 
water. 

She  lay  partly  reclining  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  her 
back  supported  by  a  pillow.  A  meditative  silence  en- 
shrouded her  as  she  lay  listless,  unconcerned  to  all 
appearances,  as  to  her  whereabouts  or  destination. 
The  while  she  thought,  the  more  steadily  she  gazed  at 
the  waters  as  she  splashed  them  gently  and  playfully. 
Like  a  caress  the  silence  of  the  place  descended  upon 
her,  and  brought  home  to  her  the  full  import  of  her 
loneliness. 

"In  view  of  what  you  have  disclosed  to  me,  I  think 
it  only  my  duty,"  Stephen  replied  as  he  lazily  stroked 
the  paddle. 

Again  there  was  silence. 

"I  wish  you  weren't  going,"  she  finally  murmured. 

He  looked  straight  at  her,  holding  his  arm  motion- 
less for  the  space  of  a  moment. 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  say  that,"  was  the  measured 
reply.  "This  has  been  a  most  delightful  day,  and  I 
have  enjoyed  this  glimpse  of  you  very  much." 

Raising  her  eyes  she  thanked  him  with  a  look. 

"You  must  remember  that  it  has  been  due  to  no 
fault  of  mine  that  I  have  seen  so  little  of  you,"  he 
continued. 

"Nor  mine,"  came  back  the  whisper. 

"True,"  he  said.  "Events  have  moved  so  rapidly 
during  the  past  month  that  I  was  enabled  to  keep 
abreast  of  them  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty." 

"I  daresay  we  all  are  proud  of  your  achievement." 

"God  has  been  good  to  us.     I  must  thank  you,  too." 

"Me?"     She  grinned  with  contempt.     "I  am  sure 


THE  LOYALIST  307 

when  the  truth  is  known  that  I  shall  be  found  more  an 
instrument  of  evil  than  of  good." 

"I  wish  you  would  not  say  that." 

"I  cannot  say  otherwise,  for  I  know  it  to  be  true." 

"Do  not  depreciate  your  efforts.  They  have  been 
invaluable  to  me.  Remember,  it  was  you  who  greatly 
confirmed  my  suspicions  of  Anderson.  I  did  acquire 
some  facts  myself;  but  it  was  due  to  the  information 
which  you  imparted  to  me  that  I  was  enabled  to  join 
together  several  ambiguous  clews." 

"Really?" 

"And  you  must  remember  that  it  was  through  your 
cooperation  that  my  attention  was  first  drawn  to  Gen- 
eral Arnold." 

"You  suspected  him  before  our  conversation.  You, 
yourself,  heard  it  from  his  own  lips  in  the  garden." 

"Yes,  I  did.     But  the  note!" 

"What  note?" 

"The  note  you  gave  me  to  read." 

"Peggy's  letter  which  I  found  at  her  house?'* 

"The  same.     Have  I  never  told  you?" 

"Never!"  was  the  slow  response.  "You  know  you 
returned  it  to  me  without  comment." 

He  was  puzzled.  For  he  wondered  how  he  had 
failed  to  acquaint  her  with  so  important  an  item. 

"When  you  allowed  me  to  take  that  letter  you  fur- 
nished me  with  my  first  clew." 

She  aroused  herself  and  looked  seriously  at  him. 

"I?  ...  Why  ...  I  never  read  it.  What  did  it 
contain?  I  had  supposed  it  to  be  a  personal  letter." 

"And  so  it  was, — apparently.  It  proved  to  be  a 
letter  from  one  of  Peggy's  New  York  friends." 

"A  Mischienza  friend,  undoubtedly." 


3o8  THE  LOYALIST 

"Yes,  Captain  Cathcart.  But  it  contained  more. 
There  was  a  cipher  message." 

"In  cipher?"  Then  after  a  moment.  "Did  she 
know  of  it?" 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  that  she  did.  Otherwise  it 
would  not  have  been  directed  to  her." 

This  was  news  indeed.  No  longer  did  she  recline 
against  the  seat  of  the  canoe,  but  raised  herself  up- 
right. 

"How  did  you  ever  discover  it?" 

"My  first  reading  of  the  note  filled  me  with  sus- 
picion. Its  tone  was  too  impersonal.  When  I  asked 
for  it,  I  was  impelled  by  the  sole  desire  to  study  it  the 
more  carefully  at  my  own  leisure.  That  night  I  found 
certain  markings  over  some  of  the  letters.  These  I 
jotted  down  and  rearranged  until  I  had  found  the 
hidden  message." 

She  gazed  at  him  in  wonder. 

"It  was  directed  to  her,  I  presume,  because  of  her 
friendship  with  the  Military  Governor;  and  carried 
the  suggestion  that  His  Excellency  be  interested  in  the 
proposed  formation  of  the  Regiment.  From  that  mo- 
ment my  energies  were  directed  to  one  sole  end.  I 
watched  Arnold  and  those  whom  he  was  wont  to 
entertain.  Eventually  the  trail  narrowed  down  to 
Peggy  and  Anderson." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath,  but  said  nothing. 

"The  night  I  played  the  spy  in  the  park  my  theory 
was  confirmed." 

"Yes,  you  told  me  of  that  incident.  It  was  not  far 
from  here." 

She  turned  to  search  the  distance  behind  her. 

"No.    Just  down  the  shore  behind  his  great  house." 


THE  LOYALIST  309 

He  pointed  with  his  finger  in  the  direction  of  Mount 
Pleasant. 

"And  Peggy  was  a  party  to  the  conspiracy!"  she 
exclaimed  with  an  audible  sigh. 

"She  exercised  her  influence  over  Arnold  from  the 
start.  She  and  Anderson  were  in  perfect  accord." 

"I  am  sorry.     She  has  disappointed  me  greatly." 

"She  has  a  very  pretty  manner  and  a  most  winsome 
expression ;  but  she  is  extremely  subtle  and  fully  accom- 
plished in  all  manner  of  artifice.  She  was  far  too 
clever  for  your  frank  simplicity." 

"I  never  suspected  her  for  aq  instant." 

"It  was  she  who  set  the  trap  for  Arnold;  it  was  she 
who  made  it  possible  for  Anderson  to  rise  to  the 
heights  of  favor  and  influence;  it  was  she  who  encour- 
aged her  husband  in  his  misuse  of  authority;  and  I 
venture  to  say,  it  was  she  who  rendered  effective  the 
degree  of  friendship  which  began  to  exist  between 
yourself  and  this  gentleman." 

Marjorie  blushed  at  the  irony. 

They  were  drifting  above  the  cove  in  the  slowest 
manner.  Only  occasionally  did  he  dip  the  paddle  into 
the  water  to  change  the  course  of  the  little  craft,  or 
to  push  it  ahead  a  little  into  the  more  shaded  places. 
Marjorie  did  not  assist  in  this,  for  he  desired  her  to 
sit  in  the  bow  facing  him,  while  he,  himself,  essayed 
the  task  of  paddler.  There  was  little  of  exertion,  how- 
ever, for  the  two  had  no  other  object  in  view  than  the 
company  of  their  own  selves.  And  so  they  drifted 
aimlessly  about  the  stream. 

"Yes,  I  think  that  I  ought  to  leave  tomorrow  for 
White  Plains  to  confer  with  His  Excellency." 

"I  should  be  the  last  to  hinder  you  in  the  perform- 
ance of  duty.  By  all  means,  go." 


3io  THE  LOYALIST 

"Of  course  it  may  be  no  more  than  a  suspicion,  but 
if  you  are  sure  of  what  Anderson  said,  then  I  think 
that  the  matter  should  be  brought  to  the  attention  of 
the  Commander-in-chief." 

"Of  course,  you  understand  that  Mr.  Anderson  told 
me  nothing  definite.  But  he  did  hint  that  General 
Arnold  should  be  placed  in  command  of  a  more  respon- 
sible post  in  the  American  army;  and  that  steps  should 
be  taken  to  have  him  promoted  to  the  Second  in  Com- 
mand." 

Stephen  thought  for  a  minute. 

"That  sounds  innocent  enough.  But  you  must  re- 
member that  events  have  come  to  light  in  the  past 
fortnight  which  for  months  had  lain  concealed  in  the 
minds  of  these  two  men.  Who  knows  but  'what  this 
was  included  in  their  nefarious  scheme.  I  am  uneasy 
about  it  all,  and  must  see  the  chief." 

"But  you  will  come  back?" 

"At  once  unless  prevented  by  a  detail  to  a  new  field. 
I  am  subject  at  all  times  to  the  will  of  my  leader." 

Her  face  fell. 

II 

The  solemn  stillness,  the  almost  noiseless  motion  of 
the  boat,  the  livid  shades  surrounding  the  place,  all 
contributed  to  the  mood  of  pensiveness  and  meditation 
which  was  rapidly  stealing  upon  them.  The  very 
silence  of  the  cove  was  infectious.  Marjorie  felt  it 
almost  immediately,  and  relaxed  without  a  murmur. 

A  stream  of  thoughts  began  to  course  in  continuous 
procession  through  her  mind,  awakening  there  what- 
ever latent  images  lay  buried  in  her  memory,  and 
fashioning  new  ideas  and  seemingly  possible  situations 


THE  LOYALIST  311 

from  her  experiences  of  the  past  year.  Now  she  sud- 
denly discovered  her  former  interest  quickened  to  a 
violent  degree.  She  was  living  over  again  the  mem- 
ories of  the  happy  hours  of  other  days. 

Certainly  Stephen  was  as  constant  as  ever.  To  her 
discerning  eye  his  manner  of  action  conveyed  no  other 
impression.  But  he  was  the  same  enigma,  however,  as 
far  as  the  communication  of  thought  was  concerned, 
and  she  knew  no  more  of  his  pleasures  and  desires 
than  she  did  of  the  inspirations  of  his  soul. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  months  she  had  seen  and 
taken  delight  in  his  own  old  self.  Never  had  he  been 
so  attentive  quite  as  John  Anderson,  nor  so  profuse  in 
his  protestations,  nor  so  ready  with  his  apologies.  And 
what  was  more  she  did  not  expect  him  to  be.  But  he 
was  more  sincere  when  it  came  to  a  question  of  un- 
folding one's  own  convictions,  more  engaging  where 
will-power,  propriety,  performance  of  duty,  were  con- 
cerned. He  alone  possessed  the  rule  to  which  all,  in 
her  own  mind,  were  obliged  to  conform.  And  so  she 
was  compelled  to  admire  him. 

These  fond  memories  suffered  an  interruption  by  a 
vision  of  the  extreme  disquietude  produced  upon  Ste- 
phen by  her  unfortunate  acquaintanceship  with  Mr. 
Anderson.  And  yet  she  had  been  profoundly  sincere 
with  herself.  Never  had  she  conveyed  the  impression 
to  any  man  that  she  had  given  him  a  second  sobering 
thought.  Her  home  constituted  for  her  a  chief  de- 
light, her  home,  her  devoted  mother,  her  fond  father. 
Peggy  had  been  her  sole  companion  previous  to  her 
marriage  with  the  Governor;  and  whatever  men  she 
had  met  with  were  they  who  composed  the  gay  assem- 
blies at  which  her  friend  was  the  pretty  hostess  and  she 
the  invited  guest.  As  far  as  Anderson  was  concerned, 


3i2  THE  LOYALIST 

and  Stephen,  for  that  matter,  she  doubted  if  she  had 
been  in  the  company  of  either  more  than  a  dozen  times 
in  the  course  of  her  life.  Certainly  not  enough  to  know 
either  of  them  intimately. 

Of  the  two  men  who  had  effected  the  most  complete 
entree  into  her  society,  Stephen  had,  unquestionably, 
impressed  her  the  more  favorably.  For  a  time  he 
seemed  too  far  removed  from  her;  and  she  failed  to 
experience  that  sense  of  proportion  between  them  so 
necessary  for  mutual  regard.  Perhaps  it  was  due  to 
this  negation^  or  perhaps  it  was  owing  to  her  modest 
reserve,  or  perhaps  to  both,  that  whatever  familiar 
intercourse,  sympathy  or  affinity  ought  to  have  existed 
was  naturally  excluded.  True  friendship  requires  a 
certain  equality,  or  at  least  a  feeling  of  proportion 
between  those  whom  it  would  bind  together.  And 
this  she  felt  had  not  prevailed. 

She  did  not  pause  to  consider  the  correctness  or  the 
incorrectness  of  her  inference.  It  was  quite  enough 
for  her  to  know  that  this  spirit  of  inequality  existed. 
In  his  presence,  however,  she  felt  at  perfect  ease, 
wholly  oblivious  of  everything  save  her  own  happiness, 
as  she  could  now  bear  witness  to,  but  alone  with  her 
thoughts  the  horrible  imagining  forced  itself  upon  her 
and  served  to  widen  perceptibly  the  gulf  between  them. 
Reflection  disconcerted  her. 

Happily,  her  enterprise  respecting  Anderson  and  his 
nefarious  scheme  had  terminated  successfully.  Hap- 
pily, too,  Stephen's  misconstruction  of  the  affair  had 
been  corrected.  No  longer  would  he  doubt  her.  Their 
fortunes  had  approached  the  crisis.  It  came.  Ander- 
son had  fled  town;  Arnold  and  Peggy  were  removed 
from  their  lives  perhaps  for  ever.  Stephen  was  with 
her  now  and  she  experienced  a  sense  of  happiness  be- 


THE  LOYALIST  313 

yond  all  human  estimation.  She  would  she  could  read 
his  mind  to  learn  there  his  own  feelings.  Was  he,  too, 
conscious  of  the  same  delights?  A  reciprocal  feeling 
was  alone  necessary  to  complete  the  measure  of  her 
joy.  But  he  was  as  non-communicative  as  ever,  totally 
absorbed  in  this  terrible  business  that  obsessed  him. 
Her  riddle,  she  feared,  would  remain  unanswered. 
Patriotism,  it  seemed,  was  more  pressing  than  love. 

The  canoe  had  drifted  nearer  to  the  shore.  At 
Stephen's  suggestion  she  aroused  herself  from  her 
lethargy  and  alighted  on  the  bank.  He  soon  followed, 
drawing  the  canoe  on  to  the  shore  a  little  to  prevent 
its  wandering  away.  Marjorie  walked  through  the 
grass,  stooping  to  pick  here  and  there  a  little  flower 
which  lay  smiling  at  her  feet.  Stephen  stood  to  one 
side  and  looked  after  her. 


ill 

"Stephen,"  she  asked,  as  she  returned  to  him  and 
stood  for  a  moment  smiling  straight  at  him,  "will  you 
tell  me  something?" 

"Anything  you  ask,"  he  assured  her.  "What  do 
you  wish  to  know?" 

But  she  did  not  inquire  further.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  in  earnest  attention  upon  the  flowers  which  she 
began  to  arrange  into  a  little  bouquet. 

"Are  you  still  vexed  with  me?" 

There!  It  was  out.  She  looked  at  him  coquet- 
tishly. 

"Marjorie !"  he  exclaimed,  "What  ever  caused  you 
to  say  that?" 


3i4  THE  LOYALIST 

"I  scarce  know,"  she  replied.  "I  suppose  I  just 
thought  so,  that  was  all." 

"Would  I  be  here  now?"  He  tried  to  assure  her 
with  a  tone  of  sincerity.  "One  need  not  hear  a  man 
speak  to  learn  his  mind." 

"Yes.    But  I  thought " 

He  seized  hold  of  her  hand. 

"Come,"  he  said.  "Won't  you  sit  down  while  I  tell 
you?" 

She  accepted  his  offer  and  allowed  herself  to  be 
assisted. 

"You  thought  that  I  was  displeased  with  you  on 
account  of  John  Anderson,"  he  remarked  as  he  took 
his  place  by  her  side.  "Am  I  correct?" 

She  did  not  answer. 

"And  you  thought,  perhaps,  that  I  scorned  you?" 

"Oh,  no!  Not  that!  I  did  not  think  that  .  .  . 
I  ...  I  ..." 

"Well,  then,  that  I  lost  all  interest  in  you?" 

She  thought  for  a  second.  Then  she  smiled  as  if 
she  dared  not  say  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"Listen.  I  shall  tell  you.  I  did  not  reprove  you 
with  so  much  as  a  fault.  I  know  well  that  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  be  in  the  frequent  presence  of  an  indi- 
vidual without  experiencing  at  some  time  some  emo- 
tion. He  becomes  continually  repugnant,  or  else 
exceedingly  fascinating.  The  sentiments  of  the  heart 
never  stand  still." 

"Yes,  I  know,— but  .  .  ." 

"I  did  think  that  you  had  been  fascinated.  I  con- 
cluded that  you  had  been  charmed  by  John  Andersen's 
manner.  Because  I  had  no  desire  of  losing  your  good 
will,  I  did  ask  you  to  avoid  him,  but  at  the  same  time, 
I  did  not  feel  free  enough  to  cast  aspersions  upon  his 


THE  LOYALIST  315 

character  and  so  change  your  good  opinion  of  him. 
The  outcome  I  never  doubted,  much  as  I  was  disturbed 
over  the  whole  affair.  I  felt  that  eventually  you  would 
learn  for  yourself." 

"But  why  did  you  not  believe  in  me?  I  tried  to  give 
you  every  assurance  that  I  was  loyal.  .  .  ." 

"The  fault  lay  in  my  enforced  absence  from  you,  and 
in  the  nature  of  the  circumstances  which  combined 
against  you.  I  knew  Anderson;  but  I  was  unaware 
of  your  own  thought  or  purpose.  My  business  led  me 
on  one  occasion  to  your  home  where  I  found  you  ready 
to  entertain  him.  The  several  other  times  in  which 
I  found  you  together  caused  me  to  think  that  you,  too, 
had  been  impressed  by  him." 

Marjorie  sat  silent.  She  was  pondering  deeply  the 
while  he  spoke  and  attempted  to  understand  the  emo- 
tions that  had  fought  in  his  heart.  She  knew  very 
well  that  he  was  sincere  in  his  confession,  and  that  she 
had  been  the  victim  of  circumstances;  still  she  thanked 
God  that  the  truth  had  been  revealed  to  him. 

"Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  simply  a  tool  in 
his  hands,  and  that  I  had  been  worsted  in  the  en- 
counter." 

"You  have  had  no  reason  to  think  that.  You  per- 
haps unconsciously  gave  him  some  information  concern- 
ing the  members  of  our  faith,  their  number,  their  lot, 
their  ambitions, — but  you  must  remember,  too,  that  he 
had  given  some  valuable  information  to  you  in  return. 
The  man  may  have  been  sincere  with  you  from  the 
beginning." 

"No  !  I  think  neither  of  us  were  sincere.  The  mem- 
ory of  it  all  is  painful;  and  I  regret  exceedingly  of 
having  had  to  play  the  part  of  the  coquette." 

A  great  silence  stole  upon  them.     He  looked  out 


3i6  THE  LOYALIST 

over  the  river  at  the  wavelets  dancing  gleefully  in  the 
sunlight,  as  they  ran  downstream  with  the  current  as  if 
anxious  to  outstrip  it  to  the  sea.  She  grew  tired  of  the 
little  flowers  and  looked  about  to  gather  others.  Pres- 
ently she  bethought  herself  and  took  from  her  bodice 
what  appeared  to  be  a  golden  locket.  Stephen,  at- 
tracted by  her  emotion,  saw  the  trinket  at  once,  its 
bright  yellow  frame  glistening  in  the  sun. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  this?"  she  asked  as  she  looked 
at  it  intently. 

He  extended  his  hand  in  anticipation.  She  gave  it 
to  him. 

"Beautiful!"  he  exclaimed.  "How  long  have  you 
had  this?" 

"About  a  year,"  she  replied  nonchalantly,  and 
clasped  her  hands  about  her  knees. 

He  leaned  forward  and  continued  to  study  it  for  the 
longest  time.  He  held  it  near  to  him  and  then  at  arm's 
length.  Then  he  looked  at  her. 

"It  is  beautiful,"  he  repeated.  "It  is  a  wonderful 
likeness,  and  yet  I  should  say  that  it  does  not  half 
express  the  winsomeness  of  your  countenance."  He 
smiled  generously  at  her  blushes  as  he  returned  it 
to  her. 

"It  was  given  me  by  John  Anderson,"  she  declared. 

"It  is  a  treasure.    And  it  is  richly  set." 

"He  painted  it  himself  and  brought  it  to  me  after 
that  night  at  Peggy's." 

"I  always  said  that  he  possessed  extraordinary 
talents.  I  should  keep  that  as  a  commemoration  of 
your  daring  enterprise." 

"Never.     I  purpose  to  destroy  all  memory  of  him." 

"You  have  lost  nothing,  and  have  gained  what  books 


THE  LOYALIST  317 

cannot  unfold.  Observation  and  experience  are  the 
prime  educators." 

"But  exceedingly  severe." 

"Come,"  said  Stephen.  "Let  us  not  allude  to  him 
again.  It  grieves  you.  He  has  passed  from  your  life 
forever." 

"Forever!"  she  repeated. 

And  as  if  by  a  mighty  effort  she  drew  back  her  arm 
and  flung  the  miniature  far  from  her  in  the  direction 
of  the  river.  On  a  sudden  there  was  a  splash,  a  gulp 
of  the  waters,  and  a  little  commotion  as  they  hurriedly 
came  together  and  folded  over  their  prey. 

"Marjorie!"  he  shouted  making  an  attempt  to  re- 
strain her.  It  was  too  late. 

"What  have  you  done?"  he  asked. 

She  displayed  her  empty  hands  and  laughed. 

"Forever!"  she  repeated,  opening  her  arms  with  a 
telling  gesture.  "I  never  should  have  accepted  it,  but 
I  was  strangely  fascinated  by  it,  I  suppose." 

For  the  moment  neither  spoke ;  he  felt  as  if  he  could 
not  speak;  and  she  looked  like  a  child,  her  cheeks 
aglow  with  the  exertion,  and  her  eyes  alight  with  merri- 
ment. Stephen  looked  intently  at  her  and  as  she  per- 
ceived his  look,  a  very  curious  change  came  across  her 
face.  He  saw  it  at  once,  although  he  did  not  think  of 
it  until  afterwards. 

"Marjorie,"  he  said  as  he  moved  nearer  to  her  and 
slipped  his  arm  very  gently  about  her.  "You  must 
have  known  for  the  longest  time,  from  my  actions, 
from  my  incessant  attentions,  from  my  words,  the  ex- 
tent of  my  feeling  for  you.  It  were  idle  of  me  to 
attempt  to  give  expression  to  it.  It  cannot  be  explained. 
It  must  be  perceived;  and  you,  undoubtedly,  have  per- 
ceived it." 


3i8  THE  LOYALIST 

There  was  no  response.  She  remained  passive,  her 
eyes  on  the  ground,  scarcely  realizing  what  he  was 
saying. 

"I  think  you  know  what  I  am  going  to  say.  I  am 
very  fond  of  you.  But  you  must  have  felt  more;  some 
hidden  voice  must  have  whispered  often  to  you  that  I 
love  you." 

He  drew  her  to  him  and  raised  both  her  hands  to 
his  lips. 

She  remonstrated. 

"Stephen!"  she  said. 

He  drew  back  sadly.  She  became  silent,  her  head 
lowered,  her  eyes  downcast,  intent  upon  the  hands  in 
her  lap.  With  her  fingers  she  rubbed  away  the  caress. 
She  was  thinking  rapidly,  yet  her  face  betrayed  no 
visible  emotion,  whether  of  joy,  or  surprise,  or  resent- 
ment. Only  her  cheek  danced  with  a  ray  of  sunshine, 
a  stolen  reflection  from  the  joyous  waves. 

"Marjorie,"  he  said  gently,  "please  forgive  me.  I 
meant  no  harm." 

She  made  a  little  movement  as  if  to  speak. 

"I  had  to  tell  you,"  he  continued.  "I  thought  you 
understood." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands;  her  frame  shook 
violently.  Stephen  was  confused  a  little;  for  he 
thought  that  she  had  taken  offense.  He  attempted  to 
reassure  her. 

"Marjorie.  Please  ...  I  give  you  my  word  I  shall 
never  mention  this  subject  again.  I  am  sorry,  very 
sorry." 

She  dried  her  eyes  and  looked  at  her  handkerchief. 
Then  she  stood  up. 

"Come,  let  us  go,"  he  said  after  he  had  assisted  her. 

They  walked  together  towards  the  boat. 


CHAPTER  II 


It  has  been  said  with  more  truth  than  poetic  fancy 
that  the  descent  to  Avernus  is  easy.  It  may  be  said, 
too,  with  equal  assurance,  that  once  General  Arnold 
had  committed  himself  to  treachery  and  perfidy,  his 
story  becomes  sickening,  and  in  the  judgment  of  his 
countrymen,  devoid  of  no  element  of  horror  whether 
in  its  foul  beginnings  or  in  its  wretched  end.  Once 
his  mind  had  been  definitely  committed  to  the  treach- 
erous purpose,  which  loomed  like  a  beacon  light  before 
him  in  the  shaping  of  his  destiny,  his  descent  to  the 
depths  of  degradation  was  rapid  and  fatal.  The  court-, 
martial,  together  with  its  subsequent  reprimand,  had 
been  accepted  by  him  with  the  greatest  animosity. 
From  that  hour  his  thirst  for  vengeance  knew  no  re- 
straint. One  thing  alone  was  necessary  to  his  evil 
plans:  he  must  secure  an  important  command  in  the 
Continental  Army. 

Some  time  before  he  had  asked  for  a  change  of 
post,  or  at  least  for  a  grant  of  land  with  permission  to 
retire  to  private  life,  but  this  was  under  the  inspiration 
of  a  motive  of  an  entirely  different  nature.  Now  he 
had  specifically  asked  for  a  command  in  the  army, 
adding  that  his  leg  was  quite  healed  and  that  he  was 
fit  physically  for  field  duty.  In  entering  this  demand, 
he  was  actuated  by  a  different  motive — the  motive  of 

319 


320  THE  LOYALIST 

George  Monk,  the  Duke  of  Albemarle,  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  forces  of  three  kingdoms. 

It  is  true  that  Washington  had  been  devoted  to  him 
and  remained  faithful  to  him  until  the  very  end.  To 
reprimand  his  favorite  General  was  a  painful  duty. 
But  it  was  performed  with  delicate  and  genuine  tender- 
ness. His  Excellency  had  promised  to  do  whatever  lay 
within  his  power  to  enable  his  beloved  General  to  re- 
cover the  esteem  of  his  fellow-men  and  he  was  glad 
to  furnish  him  with  every  opportunity  of  effecting  real 
and  lasting  service.  He  wrote  him  at  once  offering 
him  leave  of  absence.  Congress  then  ordered  "That 
the  sum  of  $25,000  be  advanced  to  Major  General 
Arnold  on  account  of  his  pay."  Finally  a  general 
order  was  issued  by  the  Commander-in-chief  himself 
appointing  General  Arnold  Commander  of  the  Right 
Wing  of  the  American  Army.  The  restoration  so  long 
awaited  was  at  length  achieved. 

Arnold  at  once  began  to  make  preparations  for  his 
departure  from  the  city.  His  privateering  ventures 
had  been  cleared  up,  but  with  profits  barely  sufficient  to 
meet  his  debts.  Mount  Pleasant,  his  sole  possession, 
had  already  been  settled  on  his  wife.  His  tenure  of 
office  had  been  ended  some  time  before,  and  whatever* 
documents  were  destined  for  preservation  had  been 
put  in  order  pending  the  arrival  of  his  successor. 

The  plan  for  his  defection  had  been  evolved  by 
him  with  elaborate  detail.  Never  had  the  time  been 
more  opportune  for  the  execution  of  a  piece  of  business 
so  nefarious.  The  country  was  without  what  could  be 
called  a  stable  form  of  government.  It  was  deprived 
of  any  recognized  means  of  exchange  because  of  the 
total  depreciation  of  the  Continental  currency.  The 
British  had  obtained  possession  of  the  great  city  of 


THE  LOYALIST  321 

New  York  and  were  threatening  to  overrun  the  coun- 
try south  of  the  Susquehanna.  Newport  was  menaced 
and  the  entire  British  fleet  was  prepared  to  move  up 
the  Hudson  where,  at  West  Point,  one  poorly  equipped 
garrison  interposed  between  them  and  the  forces  of 
General  Carleton,  which  were  coming  down  from  Can* 
ada.  Washington  was  attempting  to  defend  Philadel- 
phia and  watch  Clinton  closely  from  the  heights  of 
Morristown,  while  he  threatened  the  position  of  the 
enemy  in  New  York  from  West  Point.  In  all  the 
American  Commander  had  no  more  than  four  thousand 
men,  many  of  whom  were  raw  recruits,  mere  boys, 
whose  services  had  been  procured  for  nine  months  for 
fifteen  hundred  dollars  each.  Georgia  and  the  Caro- 
linas  were  entirely  reduced  and  it  was  only  a  question 
of  time  before  the  junction  of  the  two  armies  might  be 
effected. 

Clinton  was  to  attack  West  Point  at  once,  in  order 
to  break  down  the  one  barrier  which  stood  between 
his  own  army  and  the  Canadian.  Learning,  however, 
of  the  rapid  progress  of  events  on  the  American  side 
and  more  especially  of  the  proposed  defection  of  Gen- 
eral Arnold,  he  suddenly  changed  his  plan.  He  deter- 
mined to  attack  Washington  as  soon  as  Arnold  had 
been  placed  in  command  of  the  right  wing  of  the  main 
army.  The  latter  was  to  suffer  the  attack  to  be  made, 
but  at  the  psychological  moment  he  was  to  desert  his 
Commander-in-chief  in  the  field,  and  so  effect  the  total 
destruction  of  the  entire  force. 

This  was  the  plan  which  was  being  turned  over  in 
his  mind  as  he  sat  on  this  June  afternoon  in  the  great 
room  of  his  mansion.  He  was  again  clad  in  his  Amer- 
ican uniform  and  looked  the  warrior  of  old  in  his  blue 
and  buff  and  gold.  Care  had  marked  his  countenance 


322  THE  LOYALIST 

with  her  heavy  hand,  however,  and  had  left  deep  fur- 
rows across  his  forehead  and  down  the  sides  of  his 
mouth.  His  eyes,  too,  had  lost  their  old-time  flash  and 
vivacity,  his  movements  were  more  sluggish,  his  step 
more  halting.  The  trials  of  the  past  year  had  left 
their  visible  tracings  on  him. 

He  sat  and  stroked  his  chin,  and  deliberated.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  letter,  a  letter  without  date  or  address 
or  salutation.  It  had  been  brought  to  him  that  day  by 
messenger  from  the  city.  He  understood  it  perfectly. 

He  looked  at  it  again. 

"Knyphausen  is  in  New  Jersey,"  it  read,  "but,  under- 
standing Arnold  is  about  to  command  the  American 
Army  in  the  field,  Clinton  will  attack  Washington  at 
once.  The  bearer  may  be  trusted. 

ANDERSON." 

II 

"It  is  either  Westminster  Abbey  for  me  or  the 
gallows,"  he  remarked  to  his  wife  that  evening  when 
they  were  quite  alone. 

"You  have  no  apprehensions,  I  hope." 

"There's  many  a  slip "  he  quoted. 

"Come!  Be  an  optimist.  You  have  set  your  heart 
on  it.  So  be  brave." 

"I  have  never  lacked  courage.  At  Saratoga  while 
that  scapegoat  Gates  sulked  in  his  tent,  I  burst  from 
the  camp  on  my  big  brown  horse  and  rode  like  a  mad- 
man to  the  head  of  Larned's  brigade,  my  old  command, 
and  we  took  the  hill.  Fear?  I  never  knew  what  the 
word  meant.  Dashing  back  to  the  center,  I  galloped 
up  and  down  before  the  line.  We  charged  twice,  and 
the  enemy  broke  and  fled.  Then  I  turned  to  the  left 


THE  LOYALIST  323 

ana  ordered  West  and  Livingston  with  Morgan's  corps 
to  make  a  general  assault  along  the  line.  Here  we 
took  the  key  to  the  enemy's  position  and  there  was 
nothing  for  them  to  do  but  to  retreat.  At  the  same 
instant  one  bullet  killed  my  good  brown  horse  under 
me  and  another  entered  my  leg.  But  the  battle  had 
been  won." 

"Never  mind,  my  dear,  the  world  yet  lies  before 
you." 

"I  won  the  war  for  them,  damn  'em,  in  a  single 
battle,  and  single-handed.  Lord  North  knew  it.  The 
Rockingham  Whigs,  with  Burke  as  their  leader,  knew 
it  and  were  ready  to  concede  independence,  having  been 
convinced  that  conciliation  was  no  longer  practicable 
or  possible.  Richmond  urged  the  impossibility  of  final 
conquest,  and  even  Gibbon  agreed  that  the  American 
colonies  had  been  lost.  I  accomplished  all  that,  I  tell 
you,  and  I  received — what? — a  dead  horse  and  a 
wounded  leg." 

There  was  a  flash  of  the  old-time  general,  but  only 
a  flash.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  tiring  easily.  His 
old-time  stamina  had  abandoned  him. 

"Why  do  you  so  excite  yourself?"  Peggy  cautioned 
him.  "The  veins  are  bulging  out  on  your  forehead." 

"When  I  think  of  it,  it  galls  me.  But  I  shall  have 
my  revenge,"  he  gloated  maliciously.  "Clinton  is  go- 
ing to  attack  Washington  as  soon  as  I  have  taken  over 
my  command.  I  shall  outrival  Albemarle  yet." 

"We  may  as  well  prepare  to  leave,  then." 

"There  is  no  need  of  your  immediate  departure. 
You  are  not  supposed  to  be  acquainted  with  my  de- 
signs. You  must  remain  here.  Later  you  can  join 
me." 

"But  you  are  going  at  once?" 


324  THE  LOYALIST 

"Yes,  I  shall  leave  very  soon  now.  Let  me  see."  He 
paused  to  think.  "It  is  over  a  week  now  since  I  was 
appointed.  The  appointment  was  to  take  effect  im- 
mediately. I  should  report  for  duty  at  once." 

"And  I  shall  meet  you " 

"In  New  York,  very  probably.  It  is  too  early  yet  to 
arrange  for  that.  You  will  know  where  I  am  stationed 
and  can  remain  here  until  I  send  for  you." 

While  they  were  still  engaged  in  conversation,  a 
sound  became  very  audible  as  of  a  horseman  ascending 
the  driveway.  A  summons  at  the  door  announced  a 
courier  from  the  Commander-in-chief  to  Major  Gen- 
eral Arnold.  The  latter  presented  himself  and  re- 
ceived a  packet  on  which  had  been  stamped  the  seal  of 
official  business.  He  took  the  document  and  withdrew. 

It  proved  to  be  an  order  from  His  Excellency  trans- 
ferring the  command  of  Major  General  Arnold  on 
account  of  physical  disability,  which  would  not  permit 
of  service  in  the  field,  from  the  right  wing  of  the 
American  Army  to  Commander  of  the  fortress  at  West 
Point.  He  was  ordered  to  report  for  duty  as  soon  as 
circumstances  would  permit  and  was  again  assured  of 
His  Excellency's  highest  respect  and  good  wishes. 

He  handed  the  letter  to  Peggy  without  a  word.  He 
sat  in  deep  meditation  while  she  hastily  scanned  the 
contents. 

"Tricked  again,"  was  her  sole  comment. 

He  did  not  answer. 

"This  looks  suspicious.     Do  you  think  he  knows?" 

"No  one  knows." 

"What  will  you  do  now?  This  upsets  all  your 
plans." 

"I  do  not  know.  I  shall  accept,  of  course.  Later, 
not  now,  we  can  decide." 


THE  LOYALIST  325 

"This  means  that  I  am  going  too." 

"I  suppose  so.  I  shall  have  my  headquarters  there, 
and  while  they  may  not  be  as  commodious  as  Mount 
Pleasant,  still  I  would  rather  have  you  with  me.  We 
shall  arrange  for  our  departure  accordingly." 

"You  will,  of  course,  inform  Anderson  of  the 
change?" 

"He  will  hear  of  it.  The  news  of  the  appointment 
will  travel  fast  enough  you  may  be  sure.  Very  likely 
Knyphausen  will  now  be  recalled  from  New  Jersey." 

"So  perishes  your  dream  of  a  duchy!"  she  exclaimed. 

"No.  West  Point  is  the  most  important  post  on 
the  American  side.  It  is  the  connecting  link  between 
New  England  and  the  rest  of  the  colonies.  It  was  the 
prize  which  Johnny  Burgoyne  was  prevented  from  ob- 
taining by  me.  It  commands  the  Hudson  River  and 
opens  the  way  to  upper  New  York  and  Canada.  It  is 
the  most  strategic  position  in  America,  stored  with 
immense  quantities  of  ammunition  and  believed  to  be 
impregnable.  Without  doubt  it  is  the  most  critical 
point  in  the  American  line." 

"Bah!  You  need  an  army.  Albemarle  had  an  army. 
Marlborough  had  an  army.  Of  what  use  is  a  fortress 
with  a  large  force  still  in  the  field?  It's  the  army  that 
counts,  I  tell  you.  Territory,  forts,  cities  mean  noth- 
ing. It's  the  size  of  the  army  that  wins  the  war." 

"I  know  it,  but  what  can  I  do?" 

He  conceded  the  point. 

"Insist  on  your  former  post,"  she  advised. 

He  thought  awhile  and  began  to  whistle  softly  to 
himself  as  he  tapped  his  finger  tips  one  against  the 
other. 

"Listen,"  she  continued.  "There  is  some  reason  for 
this  transfer  at  the  eleventh  hour.  Are  you  dense 


326  THE  LOYALIST 

enough  not  to  see  it?  Some  one  has  reached  Washing- 
ton's ear  and  whispered  a  secret.  Else  that  order 
would  never  have  been  written." 

"Washington  believes  only  what  is  true.  Always 
has  he  trusted  and  defended  me  from  the  vilifications 
of  my  enemies,  knowing  that  these  reports  only  ema- 
nated from  jealous  and  unscrupulous  hearts.  My  leg 
has  caused  this  change  of  command;  I  know  it." 

She  looked  at  him  in  scorn.  She  could  not  believe 
he  could  be  so  simple. 

"Your  leg !  What  has  your  leg  to  do  with  it  ?  Once 
you  are  astride  your  horse  you  are  safe.  And  don't 
you  think  for  one  minute  that  Clinton  is  a  fool.  He 
does  not  want  you.  I  dare  say  if  the  truth  were 
known,  he  has  no  respect  for  you  either.  It  is  your 
command  which  is  of  value  to  him,  and  the  more  au- 
thority you  can  master,  the  more  valuable  you  become. 
Then  you  can  dictate  your  own  terms  instead  of  bar- 
gaining them  away." 

"It  would  realize  nothing  to  attempt  a  protest.  A 
soldier  asks  no  questions.  Whatever  I  may  be,  I  am 
still  a  soldier." 

"As  you  will." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  folded  her  arms. 

"West  Point  it  is,"  she  observed,  "but  General  Clin- 
ton may  reconsider  his  proposition.  I  would  not  be 
too  sure." 

"I  am  sure  he  will  be  satisfied  with  West  Point. 
With  that  post  he  might  easily  end  the  war.  Anderson 
will  write  me  soon  again.  I  tell  you  I  can  dictate  to 
them  now.  You  shall  have  your  peerage  after  all." 

"I  am  not  so  sure." 

"Have  it  your  own  way.  I  know  what  I  am  about 
and  I  know  where  I  stand.  At  first  it  was  a  question 


THE  LOYALIST  327 

only  of  my  personal  desertion.  The  betrayal  of  an 
army  was  a  later  development.  But  I  could  not  be- 
come a  deserter  on  a  small  scale.  I  have  been  accus- 
tomed all  my  life  to  playing  signal  roles.  If  I  am  to 
sell  myself  at  all,  it  shall  be  at  the  highest  price  to- 
gether with  the  greatest  prize.  I  have  only  one  regret, 
and  that  is  that  I  am  obliged  to  take  advantage  of  the 
confidence  and  respect  of  Washington  to  render  this 
at  all  possible." 

"Don't  let  your  heart  become  softened  by  tender 
condolences  at  this  stage.  Your  mind  has  been  set; 
don't  swerve." 

He  looked  at  her  and  wondered  how  she  could  re- 
main so  imperturbable.  Ordinarily  she  burned  with 
compassion  at  the  sight  of  misery  and  affliction.  He 
could  not  understand  for  the  life  of  him,  how  stoically 
she  maintained  her  composure  throughout  this  ordeal. 
Plainly  her  heart  was  set  on  one  ambition.  She  would 
be  a  duchess. 

But  she  did  not  know  that  he  had  maintained  a  con- 
tinual corespondence  with  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  or  that 
West  Point  had  long  since  been  decided  upon  as  a  pos- 
sible contingency.  Much  she  did  know,  but  most  of  the 
details  had  been  concealed  from  her.  Not  that  he  did 
not  trust  her,  but  he  wished  her  to  be  no  party  to  his 
nefarious  work. 

And  so  he  was  not  surprised  that  she  expressed  a 
genuine  disappointment  over  his  change  of  command. 
In  fact  he  had  been  prepared  for  a  more  manifest 
display  of  disapproval.  Perhaps  it  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  she  was  at  length  to  accompany  him  which 
caused  her  to  be  more  benign  in  her  appreciation  of 
the  transfer.  For  he  knew  that  she  detested  the  city 


328  THE  LOYALIST 

and  longed  for  the  day  when  she  might  be  far  removed 
from  it  forever. 

"You  will,  of  course,  make  ready  to  leave  Mount 
Pleasant?"  he  asked  of  her. 

"Assuredly.  I  shall  acquaint  mother  and  father 
with  the  prospect  this  evening.  They  do  not  want  me 
to  leave.  But  I  am  determined." 

"They  should  be  here.     It  is  not  early." 

"The  ride  is  long.    They  will  come." 

Ill 

The  last  night  spent  by  the  Arnolds  and  the  Shippen 
family  at  Mount  Pleasant  was  a  happy  one.  The  en- 
tire family  was  in  attendance  and  the  Arnold  silver, 
was  lavishly  displayed  for  the  occasion.  American 
viands  cooked  and  served  in  the  prevailing  American 
fashion  were  offered  at  table — hearty,  simple  food  in 
great  plenty  washed  down  by  quantities  of  Madeira 
and  sherry  and  other  imported  beverages. 

Toasts  and  healths  were  freely  drunk.  After  the 
more  customary  ones  to  the  "Success  of  the  War,"  to 
the  "Success  of  General  Washington,"  to  the  "Nation" 
there  came  the  usual  healths  to  the  host  and  the  host- 
ess, and  more  especially  to  the  "Appointment  of  Gen- 
eral Arnold."  The  ceremonies  were  interspersed  with 
serious  and  animated  conversation  on  the  political 
situation  and  the  chances  of  the  army  in  the  field. 
Throughout  the  entire  meal  a  marked  simplicity,  a  pur- 
ity of  manner,  and  frank  cordiality  was  manifest,  all 
indicative  of  the  charming  and  unaffected  homelife  of 
the  Americans. 

"Miss  Franks  would  have  been  pleased  to  be  with 


THE  LOYALIST  329 

us,"  announced  the  General  as  the  company  awaited 
another  service. 

"Could  you  believe  it,  General,"  said  Mrs.  Shippen, 
"not  once  have  we  heard  from  that  girl  since  she 
moved  to  New  York,"  and  she  set  her  lips  firmly. 
"That  is  so  unlike  her;  I  cannot  understand  it." 

"But  you  know,  Mother,"  explained  Peggy,  "that 
the  mail  cannot  be  depended  upon." 

"I  know,  my  dear,  but  I  think  that  she  could  send  a 
line,  if  it  were  only  a  line,  by  messenger  if  she  thought 
enough  of  us.  You  know  it  was  at  our  house  that  she 
met  the  friends  with  whom  she  is  now  engaged." 

"Our  mail  system  is  deplorable,"  Mr.  Shippen  re- 
marked. "Only  yesterday  I  received  a  letter  which 
apparently  had  been  sent  months  ago." 

"I  can  understand  that  very  readily,"  Arnold  re- 
joined. "Often  letters  are  entrusted  to  travelers.  At 
times  these  men  deposit  a  letter  at  some  inn  at  the 
cross-roads  for  the  next  traveler  who  is  bound  for  the 
same  place  as  the  epistle.  It  often  happens  that  such 
a  missive  remains  for  months  upon  a  mantelpiece 
awaiting  a  favorable  opportunity.  Then  again  sheer 
neglect  may  be  responsible  for  an  unusual  delay.  I 
myself  have  experience  of  that." 

This  explanation  seemed  to  satisfy  Mrs.  Shippen 
for  she  dropped  the  subject  immediately.  The  mode 
of  travel  then  occasioned  a  critical  comment  from  her 
until  she  finally  asked  when  they  intended  to  leave  for 
West  Point. 

"Very  likely  I  shall  leave  before  the  week  is  out," 
replied  Arnold.  "It  is  most  important  that  I  assume 
command  at  once.  We  shall  prepare  to  depart  to- 


morrow." 


They  talked  far  into  the  night,  the  men  smoking 


330  THE  LOYALIST 

while  the  ladies  retired  to  the  great  drawing-room. 
Peggy  played  and  sang,  and  took  her  mother  aside  at 
intervals  for  conference  upon  little  matters  which  re- 
quired advice.  At  a  late  hour,  after  taking  affection- 
ate leaves,  the  families  parted.  Peggy  and  her  hus- 
band now  abandoned  themselves  to  their  destiny — to 
glorious  triumph  or  to  utter  ruin. 

They  closed  the  door  upon  their  kinsfolk  and  faced 
the  situation.  Westminster  Abbey  or  the  gallows 
loomed  before  them. 

IV 

Late  that  same  evening,  alone  before  his  desk,  Gen- 
eral Arnold  penned  the  following  ambiguous  letter  to 
John  Anderson.  West  Point  it  was.  That  was  settled. 
Still  it  was  necessary  that  General  Clinton  be  appraised 
immediately  of  the  change  of  command  together  with 
some  inkling  of  the  military  value  of  the  new  post. 
The  business  was  such  that  he  dared  not  employ  his 
true  name;  and  so  he  assumed  a  title,  referring  to  him- 
self throughout  the  note  in  the  third  person.  The 
meaning  of  the  message,  he  knew,  would  be  readily 
interpreted. 

Sir: — On  the  24th  of  last  month  I  received  a  note 
from  you  without  date,  in  answer  to  mine ;  also  a  letter 
from  your  house  in  answer  to  mine,  with  a  note  from 
B.  of  the  30th  of  June,  with  an  extract  of  a  letter  from 
Mr.  J.  Osborn.  I  have  paid  particular  attention  to  the 
contents  of  the  several  letters.  Had  they  arrived  ear- 
lier, you  should  have  had  my  answer  sooner.  A  variety 
of  circumstances  has  prevented  my  writing  you  before. 
I  expect  to  do  it  very  fully  in  a  few  days,  and  to  pro- 


THE  LOYALIST  331 

cure  you  an  interview  with  Mr.  M — e,  when  you  will 
be  able  to  settle  your  commercial  plan,  I  hope,  in  a 
manner  agreeable  to  all  parties.  Mr.  M — e  assures 
me  that  he  is  still  of  opinion  that  his  first  proposal  is  by 
no  means  unreasonable,  and  makes  no  doubt,  that, 
when  he  has  a  conference  with  you,  you  will  close  with 
it.  He  expects  when  you  meet  you  will  be  fully  au- 
thorized from  your  House  and  that  the  risks  and 
profits  of  the  co-partnership  may  be  fully  and  clearly 
understood. 

A  speculation  might  at  this  time  be  easily  made  to 
some  advantage  with  ready  money,  but  there  is  not  the 
quantity  of  goods  at  market  which  your  partner  seems 
to  suppose,  and  the  number  of  speculators  below,  I 
think,  will  be  against  your  making  an  immediate  pur- 
chase. I  apprehend  goods  will  be  in  greater  plenty 
and  much  cheaper  in  the  course  of  the  season;  both  dry 
and  wet  are  much  wanted  and  in  demand  at  this  June* 
ture.  Some  quantities  are  expected  in  this  part  of  the 
country  soon. 

Mr.  M — e  flatters  himself  that  in  the  course  of  ten 
days  he  will  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you.  He  re- 
quests me  to  advise  you  that  he  has  ordered  a  draught 
on  you  in  favor  of  our  mutual  friend,  S — y  for  1300, 
which  you  will  charge  on  account  of  the  tobacco. 

I  am,  in  behalf  of  Mr.  M — e  and  Co.,  Sir, 
Your  most  obedient,  humble  servant, 

Gustavus. 

To  Mr.  John  Anderson,  Merchant, 
New  York. 


CHAPTER  III 


In  the  meantime,  Marjorie  was  tossing  restlessly, 
nervously  in  her  bed,  enduring  hours  of  disconsolate 
remorse  and  lonely  desolation.  She  could  not  sleep. 
She  cried  her  eyes  wet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them  dry 
again  with  her  handkerchief;  then  stared  up  at  the 
black  ceiling,  or  gazed  out  through  the  small  window 
at  the  faint  glow  in  the  world  beyond.  Her  girlish 
heart,  lay  heavy  within  her,  distended  almost  to  the 
breaking-point  with  grief,  a  grief  which  had  sent  her 
early  to  bed  to  seek  solitude  and  consolation;  that  soli- 
tude which  alone  brings  relief  to  a  heart  freighted 
with  sorrow  and  woe.  Now  that  Stephen  had  gone, 
she  had  time  to  think  over  the  meaning  of  it  all,  and 
she  began  to  experience  the  renewed  agony  of  those 
terrible  moments  by  the  water's  edge.  It  was  so  awful, 
so  frightful  that  her  tender  frame  seemed  to  yield 
beneath  its  load,  she  simply  had  to  give  way  to  the 
tears. 

She  could  not  sleep,  and  she  knew  it.  Scrambling 
out  of  her  bed  and  wrapping  a  mantle  about  her,  she 
sat  beside  the  window  and  peered  into  the  night.  There 
was  not  a  breeze  to  break  the  solemn  silence,  not  a 
sound  to  distract  her  from  her  reverie.  Two  black 
and  uncanny  pine  trees  stood  like  armed  guards  near 
by  the  corner  of  the  house  to  challenge  the  interloper 
from  disturbing  her  meditation.  Overhead  the  stars 

332 


THE  LOYALIST  333 

blinked  and  glistened  through  the  treetops  in  their  lace 
of  foliage  and  delicate  branches,  and  resembled  for  all 
the  world  an  hundred  diamonds  set  in  a  band  of  fili- 
gree work.  The  moon  had  not  yet  risen,  and  all  the 
world  seemed  to  be  in  abject  despair,  bristling  in  horrid 
shapes  and  sights, — a  fit  dwelling-place  for  Marjorie 
and  her  grief-sticken  heart. 

Stephen  had  gone  away  that  afternoon,  perhaps 
never  to  return.  For  this  she  could  not  reproach  him, 
for  she  allowed  that  she  had  given  him  every  reason 
to  feel  offended.  But  she  had  hurt  him,  and  very  likely 
hurt  him  to  the  quick.  She  knew  his  sensitive  nature 
and  she  feared  the  consequence.  It  was  that  thought 
more  than  the  real  contrition  over  her  fault  which  had 
overwhelmed  her.  Her  return  for  his  many  acts  of 
kindness  had  been  one  of  austere  repulsion. 

Now  she  felt  acutely  the  bitterness  of  it  all.  That 
she  had  afforded  him  some  encouragement,  that  she 
had  cooperated  in  the  first  place  to  make  the  setting  of 
it  all  quite  perfect,  that  she  had  lent  him  her  assurance 
that  she  was  amicably  disposed  towards  him,  and  that 
her  action  in  regard  to  the  miniature,  while  apparently 
innocent  enough,  was  fraught  with  significance  for  Ste- 
phen in  view  of  his  intimate  connections  with  the  events 
of  the  past  two  years,  that  after  all  perhaps  she  had 
been  entirely  unreasonable  throughout  it  all;  these 
were  the  thoughts  which  excited,  both  in  the  truth  of 
their  reality  and  in  the  knowledge  of  the  hopes  they 
had  alternately  raised  and  blasted  in  Stephen,  the  bitter 
sorrow  which  was  the  cause  of  her  mingled  pain  and 
regret. 

What  would  he  think  of  her  now?  What  could  he 
think?  Plainly  he  must  consider  her  a  cold,  austere 
being,  devoid  of  all  feeling  and  appreciation.  He  had 


334  THE  LOTALIST 

given  her  the  best  that  was  in  him  and  had  made  bold 
enough  to  appraise  her  of  it.  Sincerity  was  manifest 
in  his  every  gesture  and  word,  and  yet  she  had  made 
him  feel  as  if  his  protestations  had  been  repugnant  to 
her.  She  knew  his  nature,  his  extreme  diffidence  in 
matters  of  this  kind,  his  power  of  resolution,  and  she 
feared  that  once  having  tried  and  failed,  he  was  lost  to 
her  forever. 

And  yet  she  knew  that  she  grieved  not  for  herself 
but  for  him.  Her  stern  refusal  had  only  caused  him 
the  greater  pain.  Stephen  would,  perhaps,  misunder- 
stand as  he  had  misunderstood  her  in  the  past  and  it 
was  the  thought  of  the  vast  discomfiture  she  had  occa- 
sioned in  him  that  stung  her  with  sorrow. 

Her  warm,  generous  heart  now  chided  her  for  her 
apparent  indifference.  There  was  no  other  name  for 
it.  What  could  he  deduce  from  her  behavior  except 
that  she  was  a  cold,  ungrateful,  irresolute  creature  who 
did  not  know  her  own  mind  or  the  promptings  of  her 
own  heart!  She  had  flung  him  from  her  smarting  and 
wounded,  after  he  had  summoned  his  entire  strength 
to  whisper  to  her  what  she  would  have  given  worlds 
to  hear,  but  which  had  only  confounded  and  startled 
her  by  its  suddenness. 

And  yet  she  loved  him.  She  knew  it  and  kept  re- 
peating it  over  and  over  again  to  her  own  self.  No 
one  before  or  since  had  struck  so  responsive  a  chord 
from  her  heart  strings.  There  had  been  no  other  ideal 
to  which  she  had  shaped  the  pictures  of  her  mind.  Ste- 
phen was  her  paragon  of  excellence  and  to  him  the 
faculties  of  her  soul  had  turned  of  their  own  mood  and 
temper  unknown  even  to  the  workings  of  her  intellec- 
tual consciousness,  like  the  natural  inclination  of  the 
heliotrope  before  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun. 


THE  LOYALIST  335 

Laying  her  head  in  the  crook  of  her  elbow  she 
sobbed  bitterly. 

The  thought  that  he  was  gone  from  her  life  brought 
inconsolable  remorse.  She  knew  him,  knew  the  inti- 
mate structure  of  his  soul,  and  she  knew  that  a  deep 
repentance  would  seize  hold  of  him  on  account  of  his 
rash  presumption.  He  would  be  true  to  his  word:  he 
would  not  breathe  the  subject  again.  Nay,  more,  he 
would  ever  permit  her  to  disappear  from  his  life  as 
gradually  as  she  had  entered  into  it.  This  was  unen- 
durable but  the  consciousness  that  sh,e  had  caused  this 
bitter  rupture  was  beyond  all  endurance  still. 

She  lifted  her  head  and  stared  into  the  black  depths 
of  the  night.  All  was  still  except  the  shrill  pipings  of 
the  frogs  as  they  sounded  their  dissonant  notes  to  one 
another  in  the  far-off  Schuylkill  meadows.  They,  too, 
were  filled  with  thoughts  of  love,  Marjorie  thought, 
which  they  had  made  bold  enough  to  publish  in  their 
own  discordant  way,  and  they  seemed  to  take  eminent 
delight  in  having  the  whole  world  aware  of  the  fact 
that  it,  too,  might  rejoice  with  them. 

If  it  were  true  that  she  loved  him,  it  were  equally 
true  that  he  ought  to  be  apprised  of  it.  There  could 
be  no  love  without  a  mutual  understanding,  for  to  love 
alone  would  be  admiration  and  entirely  one-sided.  Let 
her  unfold  her  soul  to  him  in  order  that  he  might  take 
joy  for  his  portion  ere  his  ardor  had  cooled  into  mere 
civility.  For  if  it  were  licit  to  love,  it  were  more  licit 
to  express  it  and  this  expression  should  be  reciprocal. 

She  would  tell  him  before  it  were  too  late.  Her 
silence  at  the  very  moment  when  she  should  have  acted 
was  unfortunate.  Perhaps  his  affection  had  been  killed 
by  the  blow  and  her  protestations  would  be  falling 
upon  barren  soil.  No  matter!  She  would  write  and 


336  THE  LOYALIST 

unfold  her  heart  to  him,  and  tell  him  that  she  really 
and  truly  cared  for  him  more  than  any  one  else  in  the 
world,  and  she  would  beg  him  to  return  that  she  might 
whisper  in  his  ear  those  very  words  she  had  been  softly 
repeating  to  herself.  Full  repentence  would  take  pos- 
session of  her  soul,  and  her  heart  would  rush  unre- 
strained to  the  object  of  its  love,  telling  him  that  she 
was  with  him  always,  thinking  of  him,  praying  for  him, 
and  waiting  for  him.  She  would  write  him  at  once. 

II 

But  she  did  not  mail  the  letter.  Hidden  carefully 
in  her  room,  it  lay  all  the  next  day.  Unworthy  post- 
chaise  to  bear  so  precious  a  manuscript!  She  would 
journey  herself  to  its  destination  to  safeguard  it,  were 
it  at  all  possible.  A  thousand  and  one  misgivings 
haunted  her  concerning  the  safety  of  its  arrival, — Ste- 
phen might  have  been  transferred  to  some  distant 
point,  the  letter  itself  might  possibly  fall  into  awkward 
hands,  it  might  lay  for  months  in  the  post  bag,  or  fall 
into  a  dark  corner  of  some  obscure  tavern,  the  roads 
were  infested  with  robbers, — horrible  thoughts,  too 
horrible  to  record. 

She  did  not  know  just  how  long  it  had  taken  her  to 
compose  it.  The  end  of  the  candle  had  burned  quite 
out  during  the  process,  and  she  lay  deliberating  over 
its  contents  and  wondering  just  what  else  might  be 
added.  Twice  she  was  on  the  point  of  arising  to  as- 
sure herself  on  the  style  of  her  confession,  but  each 
time  she  changed  her  mind,  deciding  to  yield  to  her 
earlier  thought.  The  darkness  seemed  to  envelop  her 
in  fancy,  and  when  she  again  opened  her  eyes  the  dark- 


THE  LOYALIST  337 

ness  had  disappeared  before  the  light.  It  was  morning 
and  she  arose  for  the  day. 

Hour  by  hour  she  waited  to  tell  her  mother.  It 
was  only  right  that  she  should  know,  and  she  proposed 
to  tell  her  all,  even  the  very  episode  on  the  river  bank. 
She  needed  counsel,  especially  during  these  lonely  mo- 
ments, and  she  felt  that  she  could  obtain  it  only  by 
unfolding  her  heart  unreservedly.  Mother  would 
know;  in  fact,  she  must  have  suspected  the  gravity  of 
the  affair.  But  how  would  she  begin  it?  She  longed 
for  an  opening,  but  no  opening  presented  itself. 

The  meaning  of  his  addresses  she  saw,  or  she 
thought  she  saw.  Stephen  loved  her;  his  words  were 
very  effective.  Indeed,  he  had  made  no  mention  of 
marriage,  nevertheless  she  sensed  that  his  ulterior  pur- 
pose had  been  revealed  to  her  fully.  Perhaps  it  was 
this  consummation  which  caused  her  heart  to  stand 
suddenly  still;  perhaps  it  was  the  vision  of  the  new  life 
which  was  opening  before  her.  She  would  have  to  go 
away  with  him  as  his  wife,  away  from  her  home,  away 
from  her  beloved  father  and  mother.  The  summers 
would  come  and  go  and  she  would  be  far  distant  from 
her  own,  in  far-off  New  York,  perhaps,  or  some  other 
city  better  adapted  for  the  career  of  a  young  man  of 
ability.  They  might  live  in  Philadelphia,  near  to  her 
home,  yet  not  in  it.  That  would  be  preferable,  yet  the 
future  could  lend  her  no  assurance.  She  would  be  his 
for  life,  and  with  him  would  be  obliged  to  begin  a  new 
manner  of  living. 

Such  thoughts  as  these  occupied  her  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  day,  and  before  she  was  really  aware  of  it, 
her  father  had  come  home  for  the  evening.  She  could 
not  tell  both  at  once;  better  to  tell  them  in  turn.  It 
would  be  more  confidential  and  better  to  her  liking. 


338  THE  LOYALIST 

Once  the  secret  was  common  between  them,  it  was  easy 
to  discuss  it  together,  and  so  she  decided  that  she 
would  put  it  off  until  the  morrow.  Then  she  would  tell 
mother,  and  let  her  mother  talk  it  over  with  her 
father.  Both  then  would  advise  her. 

"Next  week  is  going  to  see  the  greatest  event  in  the 
history  of  the  Church  in  America,"  Marjorie  heard  her 
father  remark  as  he  placed  his  hat  upon  the  rack  be- 
hind the  door. 

"What  is  it  now?"  inquired  her  mother  who  chanced 
to  be  in  the  sitting-room  when  he  entered. 

"The  Congress  is  going  to  Mass." 

"The  Congress?"  she  exclaimed.  "Praised  be  God!" 

"What  news,  father?"  asked  Marjorie,  hurrying 
into  the  room. 

"The  Congress,  the  President  and  the  prominent 
men  of  the  nation  have  been  invited  to  take  part  in  the 
solemn  Te  Deum  next  Sunday.  It  is  the  anniversary 
of  the  signing  of  the  Declaration." 

"Isn't  that  remarkable?" 

"It  is  remarkable,"  he  repeated.  "The  French  Am- 
bassador has  issued  the  invitations  and  all  have  signi- 
fied their  intentions  of  being  present.  Here  is  one  of 
them."  Taking fromhispocket  a  foldedpaper,  he  hand- 
ed it  to  Marjorie.  She  opened  it  at  once  and  read  aloud, 

"Mr.  Matthew  Allison: — You  are  invited  by  the 
Minister  Plenipotentiary  of  France  to  attend  the  Te 
Deum,  which  will  be  chanted  on  Sunday,  the  4th  of  this 
month,  at  noon,  in  the  new  Catholic  Chapel,  to  cele- 
brate the  anniversary  of  the  Independence  of  the 
United  States  of  America. 

"Philadelphia,  the  Second  of  July.     M.  Gerard." 


THE  LOYALIST  339 

"The  Congress  going  to  Mass!"  said  his  wife,  ap- 
parently unable  to  comprehend  fully  the  meaning  of  it 
all. 

"The  more  one  thinks  of  it  the  more  strange  it  be- 
comes. They  branded  Charles  the  First  a  Papist  be- 
cause he  permitted  his  queen,  who  was  born  and  bred 
a  Catholic,  to  attend  Holy  Mass.  Now  we  have  our 
newly-formed  government  not  alone  countenancing 
Popery,  but  actually  participating  in  a  supposedly 
pagan  and  idolatrous  form  of  worship." 

"This  marks  the  end  of  religious  prejudice  in  this 
country,"  observed  Marjorie.  "At  length  all  men  are 
in  all  things  equal,  equal  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man. 
Don't  you  think  our  leaders  must  realize  this  and  are 
taking  steps  to  prepare  the  minds  of  the  people  accord- 
ingly?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "  and  I  don't  know  but  what  it  is 
only  right.  We  all  go  to  the  market  together,  trade 
our  goods  together,  rub  elbows  together,  clear  the  land 
together,  fight  together.  Why  shouldn't  we  live  to- 
gether in  peace?  Intolerance  and  bigotry  are  dead  and 
buried.  We  have  laid  the  foundations  of  the  greatest 
country  in  the  world." 

"Thank  God  for  that!"  breathed  Mrs.  Allison. 

"We  are  respected  above  all  calculation,"  Mr. 
Allison  continued.  "Our  Loyalty  now  is  unques- 
tioned." 

"We  may  thank  God  for  that,  too." 

"And  Captain  Meagher!"  added  Marjorie. 

Her  eyes  beamed. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,  girl,"  said  her  father.  "We 
can  thank  Captain  Meagher.  The  frustration  and  the 
exposure  of  that  plot  has  increased  our  reputation  an 


340  THE  LOYALIST 

hundredfold.  Heretofore,  the  Catholic  population 
had  been  regarded  as  an  insignificant  element,  but  when 
the  ambitions  of  the  enemy  to  secure  their  cooperation 
were  discovered,  the  value  of  the  Catholics  to  the  coun- 
try suddenly  rose." 

"Our  unity  must  have  created  a  lasting  impression," 
Marjorie  remarked. 

"Not  alone  our  unity,  but  our  loyalty  as  well.  The 
government  has  learned  that  we  have  been  ever  true  to 
the  land  of  our  birth,  ever  loyal  to  the  country  of  our 
adoption.  It  has  thoughtfully  considered  the  value  of 
our  sacrifices,  and  has  carefully  estimated  our  contribu- 
tion to  the  cause  of  freedom.  When  the  charter  of 
liberty  assumes  a  more  definite  form  our  rights  will 
specifically  be  determined.  Of  that  I  am  reasonably 
certain.  The  enemy  failed  to  allure  us  from  our  coun- 
try in  its  time  of  need;  our  country  will  not  abandon 
us  in  our  time  of  need." 

"Stephen  did  it,"  announced  Marjorie. 

"Stephen  helped  to  do  it,"  replied  her  father. 

Ill 

That  same  evening,  during  a  stolen  moment  while 
her  mother  was  busied  with  the  turning  of  the  buck- 
wheat cakes,  Marjorie  crept  to  her  father's  knee  and 
folded  her  arms  over  it. 

"Daddy!"  she  looked  up  at  him  from  her  seated 
posture  on  the  floor.  "What  would  you  say  to  a  very 
eligible  young  man  who  had  told  you  that  he  was  very 
fond  of  you?" 

"What  would  I  say?"  asked  the  father  in  surprise. 

"Yes.     What  would  you?" 


THE  LOYALIST  341 

"I  would  not  say  anything.    I  would  have  him  exam- 
ined." 

"No,  Daddy.     This  is  serious,"  and  she  pushed  his 
knee  from  her  as  she  spoke. 

I  am  serious.     If  a  man  told  me  that  he  was  very 
fond  of  me,  I  would  question  his  sanity." 

She  laughed. 

"You  know  what  I  mean.     I  mean  if  you  were  a 
girl  and " 

"But  I  am  not  a  girl." 

"Well,  if  you  were?" 

"If  I  was  what?" 

"You  know  what  I  mean  quite  well.     Would  you 
hate  him  at  first?" 

"I  hope  not.     I  should  want  to  strangle  him,  but  I 
wouldn't  hate  him." 

"And  you  would  strangle  him?     For  what?" 

"For  daring." 

"Daring  what?" 

"You  know." 

He  smiled. 

"Oh,  dear  I    Won't  you  listen  to  me?    Tell  me  what 
to  do." 

"I  could  not  tell  you.    You  have  not  told  me  what 
has  happened." 

"I  asked  you  what  you  would  say  to  an  attractive 
soldier  who  had  told  you  that  he  loved  you." 

"Yes.     And  I  told  you  that  if  he  had  told  that  to 
me,  I  would  ask  what  ailed  him." 

"Oh,  Daddy,  you  are  too  funny  tonight.     I  can't 
reason  with  you." 

She  sat  back  on  her  heels  and  pouted. 

He  smiled  and  roused  himself  upright  and  put  his 
arm  around  her  and  drew  her  to  him. 


342  THE  LOYALIST 

"There  !  There  !  I  know  what  you  mean,  daugh- 
ter. It  means  that  I  shall  have  no  say  in  the  matter." 

"Why?" 

"You  will  do  it  all." 

"No.     I  shall  never  leave  you." 

"Yes,  you  will.  You  will  be  happier.  But  why  didn't 
Stephen  ask  me  about  it?" 

"How  did  you  know  it  was  Stephen?"  she  looked  at 
him  in  astonishment. 

"Well  enough." 

"But  how?"  she  repeated. 

"I  knew  it  all  the  time  and  your  mother  and  I  have 
been  prepared  for  this  occasion." 

"But  who  told  you?"  Her  eyes  opened  full  and 
round  in  genuine  wonder.  Here  was  one  surprise  after 
the  other. 

"There  was  no  need  of  any  one  telling  me.  I  have 
been  watching  the  pair  of  you,  and  sensed  what  the 
outcome  would  be  some  little  while  ago." 

"But,  Daddy.    How  should  you  know?" 

He  laughed  outright. 

"There !  There !  We  are  satisfied  quite,  I  can  as- 
sure you.  I  know  what  you  are  about  to  say;  and  your 
mother  knows  it  too." 

"But  I  have  not  yet  told  her.  I  meant  to  tell  her 
today  but  did  not.  Then  I  thought  of  telling  you  and 
of  whispering  the  whole  story  to  her  after  we  were 
upstairs." 

She  was  serious,  very  serious,  absorbed  for  the  most 
part  in  her  story  although  her  mind  was  clouded  with 
amazement  at  the  want  of  surprise  which  was  mani- 
fested. Her  innocent  mind  apparently  was  unable  for 
the  time  being  to  fathom  the  intricacies  of  this  plot 


THE  LOYALIST  343 

which  seemed  to  be  laid  bare  to  every  one  concerned 
save  her  own  self. 

"Of  course  you  will  tell  her,  but  you  will  find  that 
she  will  consent  to  the  proposal." 

"What  proposal?" 

"Why,  I  suppose  the  proposal  of  your  coming  mar- 
riage." 

"But!  ...  But!  ...  Daddy!  .  .  .  I  never  said 
anything  about  marriage." 

"You  did  start  to  tell  me  that  Stephen  told  you  he 
was  very  fond  of  you?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  told  him  the  same." 

"No,  I  didn't." 

"But  you  will  tell  him." 

A  hush  followed.  She  looked  askance  at  him  from 
the  corner  of  her  eye. 

"And  so  after  you  two  have  told  one  another  as 
much  as  that  you  may  as  well  decide  upon  the  date." 

"But  ...  I  ...  I  am  not  sure  that  I  want  to  marry 
him." 

"Well,  that  is  your  privilege,  you  know." 

"And  .  .  .  And  .  .  .  perhaps  he  will  never  ask  me 
again." 

"Just  wait  a  bit." 

"And  would  you  marry  him?" 

"I  told  you  that  I  would  not.  I  already  have  one 
wife  .  .  ." 

"Oh!  You  make  me  lose  all  patience,"  she  cried 
rising  from  the  floor  and  leaving  him.  "I  shall  confide 
in  mother." 

"Remember,"  he  cautioned  her  in  a  somewhat 
serious  strain.  "Do  not  ask  her  to  marry  him." 

She  was  gone. 


344  THE  LOYALIST 

The  following  day  a  letter  was  dispatched  to  the 
Headquarters  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey.  In  the 
meantime  a  very  large  doubt  began  to  take  form  in 
the  mind  of  one  little  girl  concerning  the  manner  of 
its  reception.  A  thousand  and  one  impossible  situ- 
ations were  conceived,  but  there  seemed  nothing  to  do; 
he  must  now  do  it  all.  The  possibility  loomed  ghost- 
like before  her:  he  might  never  return.  The  wound 
which  she  had  caused  still  smarted  and  ached.  He 
might  never  return.  Her  eyes  wandered  and  strayed 
among  the  multitude  of  objects  before  them;  her  lips 
had  forgotten  their  usual  smile.  He  might  fail  to  re- 
ceive her  note  and  if  he  did  he  might  disdain  to 
acknowledge  it.  But  no !  He  would  not  do  that. 
There  was  naught  else  to  do  but  wait.  Oh !  if  the  mo- 
ments would  only  hurry ! 


CHAPTER  IV 


It  was  a  great  day  for  Philadelphia  when  the  Con- 
tinental Congress  went  to  Mass.  It  was  Independence 
Day,  too,  but  this  was  of  lesser  importance  in  the- 
estimation  of  the  people,  especially  of  the  Catholic 
portion  of  them.  Fully  a  quarter  before  the  hour,  the 
bell  began  to  sound  and  the  streets  became  like  so 
many  avenues  of  commerce  with  people  standing  in 
doorways,  or  leaning  from  their  windows,  or  hurry- 
ing with  feverish  haste  in  the  direction  of  the  New 
Chapel  of  St.  Mary's,  the  parish  church  of  the  city. 
There  a  number  of  them  congregated  in  twos  or  threes 
to  await  the  procession  of  notables,  who  would  soon 
approach  with  great  solemnity  and  dignity  from  the 
opposite  corner  of  the  street. 

The  celebration  came  about  in  this  manner: 
It  was  the  desire  of  M.  Gerard,  the  Minister  Pleni- 
potentiary of  France,  to  commemorate  the  anniversary 
day  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  in  a 
religious  manner.  Arrangements  already  had  been 
made  to  hold  Divine  worship  earlier  in  the  morning  at 
Christ  Church,  at  which  the  guests  of  honor  were  in- 
vited to  be  present.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  congregation 
would  march  to  the  Church  of  St.  Mary,  where  a  mili- 
tary Mass  and  a  solemn  Te  Deum  would  be  sung.  The 
Reverend  Seraphin  Bandol,  chaplain  to  the  French 

345 


346  THE  LOYALIST 

Embassy,  would  celebrate  the  Mass  and  deliver  a  ser- 
mon appropriate  to  the  occasion. 

It  had  been  fondly  expected  that  the  event  would 
assume  an  international  tone.  Events  had  been  mov- 
ing with  extraordinary  rapidity  towards  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  in  the  graces  of 
the  government,  and  this  celebration  might  demon- 
strate the  patriotic  motives  of  the  Catholic  body  be- 
yond the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  That  a  Congress,  whicn  of 
late  had  condemned  in  the  strongest  terms  the  prac- 
tices of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  could  change  in 
sentiment  and  action  in  so  short  a  time,  would  be  an 
unequivocal  proof  of  the  countenance  and  good  will 
which  the  Catholic  religion  was  beginning  to  acquire. 
At  any  rate  the  example  set  by  the  governing  body  of 
the  new  republic  attending  Mass  in  a  Roman  Catholic 
edifice,  offering  up  their  devout  orisons  in  the  language, 
service  and  worship  of  Rome,  would  be  a  memorable 
one,  an  augury  of  the  new  spirit  of  religious  freedom 
which  later  would  be  breathed  into  the  Constitution  of 
these  same  States  by  these  same  men. 

Precisely  at  ten  minutes  before  the  hour  they  came, 
walking  in  pairs,  headed  by  John  Hancock,  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Continental  Congress,  and  His  Excellency 
M.  Gerard,  the  French  Ambassador.  Immediately 
after  the  Congress,  marched  the  Supreme  Executive 
Council  of  Philadelphia  with  Joseph  Reed  at  its  head. 
Then  came  the  French  Embassy,  resplendent  in  its 
dress  of  blue  and  gold.  Prominent  civilians,  military 
officers,  men  of  repute  in  city  and  nation,  followed 
slowly  along  the  crowded  thoroughfare  and  as  slowly 
made  their  way  into  the  small  edifice.  General  Wash- 
ington was  not  present,  having  been  prevented  by  duty 
in  the  field. 


THE  LOYALIST  347 

Within,  the  little  church  murmured  with  low  talk- 
ing. Ordinarily,  the  congregation  would  have  been 
absorbed  in  silent  contemplation  before  the  Presence 
of  the  Divine  One,  but  the  impressiveness  of  the  occa- 
sion made  the  people  depart  from  their  usual  fervor. 
The  little  church  was  only  partly  filled  when  the  great 
procession  arrived  and  every  head  instinctively  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  entrance  at  the  sound  of  their 
many  footsteps.  As  they  marched  down  the  aisle 
every  breath  was  held;  then  as  they  began  to  file  into 
the  pews  reserved  for  them,  the  subdued  murmur 
began  again. 

Marjorie  and  her  father  sat  to  the  rear  of  the 
church  in  the  company  of  the  early  arrivals.  In  fact 
the  entire  Allison  family  occupied  the  same  pew, 
pressed,  indeed,  for  room  on  account  of  the  multitude 
which  crowded  its  way  into  the  church  and  into  the 
small  aisles.  Round  about  them  on  every  side  sat  the 
congregation,  some  of  whom  were  already  familiar  to 
them,  the  majority  of  whom,  however,  were  total 
strangers.  From  their  appearance  and  demeanor  it 
was  not  difficult  to  conclude,  Marjorie  thought,  that 
more  than  one-half  of  them  were  non-Catholic. 

The  inside  of  the  church  was  adorned  in  splendid 
array  with  the  emblems  of  France  and  the  United 
States.  In  the  sanctuary,  on  each  side  of  the  altar, 
stood  two  large  flags  of  the  allied  nations,  while  across 
the  choir  gallery  in  the  rear  of  the  church,  there 
stretched  in  festoons,  the  colors  of  the  infant  republic 
superimposed  in  the  middle  by  a  shield  bearing  the  like- 
ness of  Louis  XVI.  On  the  altar  bloomed  a  variety  of 
cut  flowers,  arranged  in  an  artistic  and  fanciful  man- 
ner on  the  steps  of  the  reredos  amidst  a  great  profusion 
of  white  unlighted  candles.  The  three  highest  candle- 


348  THE  LOYALIST 

sticks  on  each  side  had  been  lighted,  and  the  little 
tongues  of  living  flame  were  leaping  from  them  joy- 
fully. Over  the  tabernacle  a  large  crucifix  raised  aloft, 
while  just  before  the  door  of  the  tabernacle  rested  the 
chalice  with  its  white  veil,  arranged  in  the  form  of  a 
truncated  triangle,  shielding  it  from  view. 

For  several  minutes  after  the  honorable  body  had 
been  seated  there  was  a  confusion  of  feet  and  forms  as 
the  members  of  the  congregation  surged  into  the 
church.  The  pews  filled  quickly,  and  the  more  tardy 
and  less  fortunate  individuals  sought  places  along  the 
aisles  and  along  the  rear.  Overhead  the  small  organ 
gasped  and  panted  the  strains  of  a  martial  air,  the 
uneven  throbbing  of  its  bellows  emphasizing  the 
fatigue  and  exhaustion  of  its  faithful  operator. 

"Is  that  the  French  Ambassador?"  whispered  Mar- 
jorie  to  her  father. 

"With  the  brocade  and  lace.  Yes.  Next  to  him  is 
Mr.  Hancock,  President  of  the  Congress." 

She  looked  and  saw  the  noble  head  and  dignified 
bearing  of  the  statesman.  He  sat  very  erect  and  ma- 
jestic, presenting  an  appearance  of  taste  and  refine- 
ment in  his  suit  of  silken  black. 

"There  is  Mr.  Adams,  John  Adams,  with  the  great 
powdered  periwig.  The  tall  thin  man  seated  at  his 
right  is  Thomas  Jefferson,  who  wrote  the  Declaration. 
He  is,  without  doubt,  the  scholar  of  the  Congress." 

Marjorie  followed  his  whispering  with  evident  in- 
terest. Never  had  she  been  in  the  company  of  such 
notable  men. 

"Who  is  that?    See!     He  is  turning  sideways." 

"Livingston.  Robert  Livingston.  Then  the  great 
Robert  Morris,  whose  financial  aid  made  possible  the 
continuance  of  the  war.  His  personal  sacrifice  for  the 


THE  LOYALIST  349 

cause  of  independence  will  never  be  computed.  He  is 
Washington's  best  friend." 

She  peered  through  the  crowd  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  famous  financier. 

"Do  not  overlook  our  staunch  Catholic  member  of 
the  Congress,  Charles  Carroll.  Lest  he  might  be  mis- 
taken for  any  other  man  of  the  same  name  he  made 
bold  to  affix  after  his  name  on  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, 'of  Carrollton.'  A  representative  Catholic 
and  a  true  patriot!" 

She  recalled  this,  having  seen  the  name  of  "Charles 
Carroll  of  Carrollton"  on  the  printed  copy  of  the  Dec- 
laration. 

Mr.  Allison  again  nudged  his  daughter  with  his 
elbow  to  attract  her  attention. 

"Can  you  see  that  elderly  man  with  the  sharp- 
pointed  features  over  across?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  but  did  not 
seem  to  be  able  to  locate  him. 

"The  second  pew,  third  man  from  the  aisle." 

"Yes!    Yes!"  she  exclaimed. 

"That  is  Richard  Henry  Lee  of  Virginia,  the  author 
of  the  resolution  'That  these  United  Colonies  are,  and 
of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States.'  That 
paved  the  way  for  the  drawing  up  of  the  Declaration." 

The  makers  of  history  were  before  her,  and  her 
eyes  danced  at  their  sober  and  grave  demeanor.  Here 
sat  the  Congress,  not  all  of  it,  but  a  goodly  portion  of 
it,  which  had  voted  unanimously  in  favor  of  complete 
separation  from  the  mother  country.  Here  were  those 
very  men  who  had  risked  their  all,  their  fortunes,  their 
homes,  their  lives  for  their  country's  cause.  Here  they 
now  assembled,  visibly  burdened  with  the  cares  and  the 
apprehensions  of  the  past  few  years,  still  uncertain  of 


350  THE  LOYALIST 

the  future,  but  steadfastly  determined  to  endure  to  the 
bitter  end,  either  to  hang  together  or  to  rise  to  glorious 
triumphs  together.  And  here  they  sat  or  knelt  in  the 
temple  of  God  to  rededicate  their  fortunes  to  Him,  to 
accept  from  His  hands  the  effects  of  His  judgments, 
but  at  the  same  time  to  implore  Him  to  look  with  favor 
upon  their  efforts  and  to  render  possible  of  realization 
those  desires  which  were  uppermost  in  their  hearts. 
Marjorie  thought  that  they  could  not,  they  must  not 
fail,  they,  who  were  animated  by  such  sincere  devotion 
and  by  such  sentiments  of  genuine  piety. 

"Mr.  Franklin  isn't  here?"  she  whispered. 

"No,"  he  softly  answered.  "I  think  he  has  not  re- 
turned from  France.  He  was  there,  you  know,  when 
the  Alliance  was  concluded.  Lafayette  only  joined 
Washington  last  month.  Did  you  know  that  he 
brought  with  him  a  commission  from  the  French  King 
to  General  Washington,  appointing  him  Lieutenant- 
General  in  the  French  army  and  Vice-Admiral  of  its 
navy?" 

"No.    I  did  not  hear  of  it." 

"I  suppose  Franklin  is  still  over  there.  He  would  be 
here,  although  he  himself  is  an  atheist.  He  believes  in 
no  form  of  religious  worship.  I  should  not  say  that 
he  is  an  atheist  for  he  does  believe  in  One  God,  but 
that  is  about  all." 

The  murmur  about  the  little  church  began  to  die 
away.  Still  the  surging  at  the  door  continued  until  it 
seemed  as  if  the  small  building  would  burst  its  sides 
with  its  great  burden. 

The  tinkle  of  a  little  bell  sounding  from  the  door 
leading  from  the  sanctuary  announced  that  the  Mass 
was  about  to  begin.  On  the  instant  the  congregation 
rose  and  remained  standing  until  Father  Bandol,  pre- 


THE  LOYALIST  351 

ceded  by  the  altar  boys,  had  reached  the  foot  of  the 
altar  and  made  the  genuflection. 


H 

High  up  in  the  gallery  the  choir  broke  into  the 
strains  of  the  "Kyrie"  of  the  Mass,  while  the  priest  in 
a  profound  bow  before  the  altar  made  his  confession 
of  sins.  Marjorie  took  out  her  prayer-book  and  began 
to  follow  the  Mass,  meditating  upon  the  mysteries  of 
Our  Lord's  life  as  commemorated  in  the  Holy  Sacri- 
fice. 

Ascending  the  altar,  the  priest  passed  at  once  to  the 
right  hand  side  where  lay  the  Mass-Book,  from  which 
he  read  the  Introit.  He  returned  to  the  center  and 
chanted  in  soft  clear  tones  the  "Gloria  in  Excelsis,"  the 
hymn  of  praise  which  the  angels  sang  for  the  first  time 
on  Christmas  night  when  Christ,  the  Lord,  was  born. 
This  was  taken  up  immediately  by  the  choir.  Mean- 
while the  congregation  were  seated  during  the  singing 
of  this  hymn  of  praise  to  the  Most  High. 

The  prayers  of  the  Mass,  prayers  for  our  rulers, 
prayers  for  peace  were  sung  by  the  celebrant,  the 
people  kneeling  in  an  attitude  of  prayer  while  their 
priest  interceded  to  God  in  their  behalf.  Having  fin- 
ished the  prayers  for  the  people  a  Lesson  from  one  of 
St.  Paul's  Epistles  was  read,  after  which  the  priest 
passed  to  the  left  side  of  the  altar  to  sing  a  passage 
from  the  Gospel.  The  people  now  stood  to  profess 
their  belief  in  the  faith  and  teachings  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Marjorie  and  her  father  and  mother  recollected 
themselves  quite  during  these  solemn  moments  and  no 
syllable  of  communication  passed  between  them,  all  as- 
sisting at  the  service  with  prayer-books  or  beads,  fol- 


352  THE  LOYALIST 

lowing  every  movement  of  the  priest  intelligently  and 
with  devotion. 

The  congregation  were  permitted  to  sit  while  the 
celebrant  of  the  Mass  offered  the  materials  for  the  sac- 
rifice, unleavenedibread  and  the  pure  juice  of  the  grape, 
to  Almighty  God,  to  adore  Him  above  all  other  things, 
to  thank  Him  for  all  the  graces  and  blessings  bestowed 
by  Him  on  mankind,  to  satisfy  His  justice  for  the  sins 
of  man  and  to  implore  Him  for  whatever  favors  He 
might  deign  to  bestow. 

Soon  the  voice  of  Father  Bandol  resounded 
through  the  church  with  the  opening  tones  of  the 
Preface  of  the  Mass,  the  responses  to  which  were 
made  by  the  members  of  the  choir.  Slowly  and 
solemnly  he  chanted  the  notes  of  praise,  ending  with  the 
"Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God  of  Hosts."  A  sound 
from  the  bell  gave  the  warning  that  the  awful  moment 
was  about  to  arrive,  the  moment  when  the  ambassador 
of  Christ  would  exercise  the  power  communicated  to 
him  from  Jesus  Himself  through  the  Twelve  and  their 
successors,  the  power  of  changing  the  substance  of 
bread  and  wine  into  the  substance  of  the  Body  and 
Blood  of  Jesus  Christ. 

The  people  bent  forward  in  an  attitude  of  humble 
adoration.  Marjorie  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
on  the  top  of  the  forward  pew,  pouring  out  her  heart 
in  praise  and  thanksgiving  to  her  God  and  Master. 
In  profound  reverence  she  remained  while  the  priest 
pronounced  the  mystical  words  "Hoc  est  enim  corpus 
meum"  over  the  species  and  effected  the  mystery  of 
mysteries,  the  translation  of  Christ's  Mystical  Body 
to  the  elements  of  the  earth,  in  the  transubstantiation 
of  the  Mass.  Now  Her  Lord  was  present  before  her; 
now  the  Divinity  of  His  Person  was  but  a  few  feet 


THE  LOYALIST  353 

away,  clothed,  not  in  flesh  and  blood,  but  under  the 
appearances  of  bread  and  wine;  now  Her  Creator  was 
with  her,  lying  on  the  white  corporal  of  the  altar  and 
she  poured  forth  her  soul  to  Him  in  accents  of  adora- 
tion and  supplication. 

"O  my  God  I"  she  breathed.  "I  adore  Thee  through 
Jesus;  I  beg  pardon  through  Jesus;  I  thank  Thee 
through  Jesus ;  I  humbly  ask  every  blessing  and  grace 
through  Jesus.  May  I  lead  a  holy  life  and  die  a  good 
death.  My  Jesus!  mercy  I  My  Jesus!  mercy!  My 
Jesus!  mercy!" 

The  prayers  for  the  dead  were  read  and  the  Pater 
Noster  was  chanted.  A  signal  from  the  bell  announced 
that  the  priest's  communion  was  about  to  take  place 
and  that  the  distribution  of  the  Sacred  Body  would  be 
made  to  as  many  as  desired  to  partake  of  it.  It  was 
Sunday  and  the  majority  of  the  Catholics  present  had 
been  in  attendance  at  an  earlier  Mass,  on  which  ac- 
count there  were  no  communicants  at  this  later  one. 
The  closing  ceremonies  were  concluded  with  the  read- 
ing of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  when  Father  Bandol 
turned  towards  the  congregation  to  begin  his  address. 
Every  member  present  sat  upright  in  his  seat  and 
awaited  the  message  which  was  about  to  fall  from  the 
lips  of  the  priest. 

Ill 

"My  dear  brethren,"  he  said,  "we  are  assembled  to 
celebrate  the  anniversary  of  that  day  which  Providence 
had  marked,  in  His  eternal  decrees,  to  become  the 
epoch  of  liberty  and  independence  to  the  thirteeni 
United  States  of  America." 

There  was  a  silence  throughout  the  church  which 


354  THE  LOYALIST 

was  breathless.  Every  eye  was  focused  on  the  vested 
form  before  the  altar. 

"That  Being  whose  almighty  hand  holds  all  exist- 
ence beneath  its  dominion  undoubtedly  produces  in  the 
depths  of  His  wisdom  those  great  events  which  aston- 
ish the  world  and  of  which  the  most  presumptuous, 
though  instrumental  in  accomplishing  them,  dare  not 
attribute  to  themselves  the  merit.  But  the  finger  of 
God  is  still  more  peculiarly  evidenced  in  that  happy, 
that  glorious  revolution  which  calls  forth  this  day's 
festivity.  He  hath  struck  the  oppressors  of  a  free 
people — free  and  peaceful,  with  the  spirit  of  delusion 
which  renders  the  wicked  artificers  of  their  own  proper 
misfortunes. 

"Permit  me,  my  dear  brethren,  citizens  of  the 
United  States,  to  address  you  on  this  occasion.  It  is 
that  God,  that  all  powerful  God,  who  hath  directed 
your  steps;  who,  when  you  were  without  arms  fought 
for  you  the  sword  of  justice;  who,  when  you  were  in 
adversity,  poured  into  your  hearts  the  spirit  of  courage, 
of  wisdom,  and  fortitude,  and  who  hath,  at  length, 
raised  up  for  your  support  a  youthful  sovereign  whose 
virtues  bless  and  adorn  a  sensible,  a  fruitful  and  a  gen- 
erous nation." 

The  French  Ambassador  bowed  his  head  in  pro- 
found acquiescence. 

"This  nation  hath  blended  her  interest  with  your 
interest  and  her  sentiments  with  yours.  She  partici- 
pates in  all  your  joys,  and  this  day  unites  her  voice  to 
yours  at  the  foot  of  the  altars  of  the  eternal  God  to 
celebrate  that  glorious  revolution  which  has  placed  the 
sons  of  America  among  the  free  and  independent  na- 
tions of  the  earth. 

"We  have  nothing  now  to  apprehend  but  the  anger 


THE  LOYALIST  355 

of  Heaven,  or  that  the  measure  of  our  guilt  should 
exceed  His  mercy.  Let  us  then  prostrate  ourselves  at 
the  feet  of  the  immortal  God,  who  holds  the  fate  of 
empires  in  His  hands,  and  raises  them  up  at  His  pleas- 
ure, or  breaks  them  down  to  dust.  Let  us  conjure  Him 
to  enlighten  our  enemies,  and  to  dispose  their  hearts  to 
enjoy  that  tranquillity  and  happiness  which  the  Revo- 
lution we  now  celebrate  has  established  for  a  great  part 
of  the  human  race.  Let  us  implore  Him  to  conduct  us 
by  that  way  which  His  Providence  has  marked  out  for 
arriving  at  so  desirable  an  end.  Let  us  offer  unto  Him 
hearts  imbued  with  sentiments  of  respect,  consecrated 
by  religion,  humanity  and  patriotism.  Never  is  the 
august  ministry  of  His  altars  more  acceptable  to  His 
Divine  Majesty  than  when  it  lays  at  His  feet  homages, 
offerings  and  vows,  so  pure,  so  worthy  the  common 
offerings  of  mankind. 

"God  will  not  regret  our  joy,  for  He  is  the  author 
of  it;  nor  will  He  forget  our  prayers,  for  they  ask  but 
the  fulfillment  of  the  decrees  He  has  manifested. 
Filled  with  this  spirit,  let  us,  in  concert  with  one  an- 
other, raise  our  hearts  to  the  Eternal;  let  us  implore 
His  infinite  mercy  to  be  pleased  to  inspire  the  rulers 
of  both  nations  with  the  wisdom  and  force  necessary 
to  perfect  what  He  hath  begun.  Let  us,  in  a  word, 
unite  our  voices  to  beseech  Him  to  dispense  His  bless- 
ings upon  the  counsels  and  the  arms  of  the  allies  and 
that  we  may  soon  enjoy  the  sweets  of  a  peace  which 
will  soon  cement  the  Union  and  establish  the  pros- 
perity of  the  two  empires." 

The  same  religious  silence  prevailed;  indeed  there 
sat  many  in  the  same  immovable  posture.  But  it  was 
evident  that  the  words  were  being  received  with  pleas- 


356  THE  LOYALIST 

ure  and  satisfaction.     Signs  of  approval  appeared  on 
every  face. 

"It  is  with  this  view,"  the  priest  concluded,  "that 
we  shall  cause  that  canticle  to  be  chanted,  which  the 
custom  of  the  Catholic  Church  hath  consecrated,  to  be 
at  once  a  testimonial  of  public  joy,  a  thanksgiving  for 
benefits  received  from  heaven,  and  a  prayer  for  the 
continuance  of  its  mercies." 


IV 

He  had  done.  As  he  stepped  to  the  floor  of  the 
sanctuary  and  took  his  stand  before  the  center  of  the 
altar  a  pronounced  disturbance,  accompanied  by  much 
coughing,  made  itself  manifest.  This  was  followed  by 
a  great  rumble  as  the  entire  congregation  rose  to  its 
feet  to  await  the  intonation  of  the  Te  Deum. 

Pleasant  and  sweet  rose  Father  Bandol's  voice  above 
the  rustling  in  the  opening  notes  of  that  most  majestic 
of  all  hymns  of  praise : 

"Te  Deum  laudamus:  te  Dominum  confitemur." 

And  immediately  the  vast  throng  took  up  the  melody 
and  there  reverberated  throughout  the  church,  escap- 
ing through  the  open  doors  and  windows,  across  the 
streets  and  over  the  roof-tops,  up  to  the  topmost  re- 
gions of  the  heavens,  to  the  very  gates  of  heaven  itself, 
the  strains  of  the  Ambrosian  hymn  of  thanksgiving 
and  praise  which  the  members  of  the  American  Con- 
gress sang  to  the  God  of  Nations  and  of  Battles  in  tHe 
little  chapel  of  St.  Mary's  on  the  anniversary  day  of 
the  signing  of  the  greatest  exposition  of  a  freeman's 
rights  ever  penned  by  the  hand  of  man. 


CHAPTER  V 


The  wayfarer  on  this  July  afternoon  in  the  fifth  year 
of  American  Independence  might  have  passed  on  the 
main  thoroughfare  leading  into  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia from  the  townships  of  Bristol  and  Trenton,  a 
young  and  powerfully  built  officer  astride  a  spirited 
chestnut  mare.  The  countryside,  through  which  he 
was  journeying,  stretched  for  miles  around  in  peaceful 
solitude,  teeming  and  delightful  with  that  leafy  and 
rich  green  livery  which  we  are  accustomed  to  associate 
with  the  idea  of  abundance.  Overhead  the  sky  was 
clear,  from  which  the  sun  blazed  down  great  billows 
of  heat  that  hovered  over  the  landscape,  giving  vigor 
and  enthusiasm  to  the  various  forms  of  vegetable  life, 
but  at  the  same  time  causing  the  animal  world  to 
drowse  and  languish  in  discomfort. 

It  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  the  horseman  was  an 
officer  of  the  Continental  Army.  His  mount,  young 
and  well  groomed,  gave  every  indication  of  a  long 
ride,  its  nostrils  dilated,  its  mouth  moist  with  foam,  its 
sides  streaky  with  strings  of  sweat.  Haste  was  de- 
sired, it  was  apparent,  although  in  the  more  exposed 
portions  of  the  roadway  the  mare  was  allowed  to  walk, 
her  rider  affectionately  patting  her  neck  or  coaxing  her 
along  with  an  encouraging  remark. 

"Look,  Dolly!  There  is  some  soft,  tender  grass  to 
cool  your  lips.  We  shall  take  some." 

357 


358  THE  LOYALIST 

And  he  turned  the  mare  to  the  side  of  the  road  and 
allowed  her  to  nibble  at  the  greensward. 

Soon  they  were  again  on  their  way,  she  munching 
the  while  on  the  last  mouthful,  now  walking,  now  im- 
patiently breaking  into  a  canter;  Stephen,  holding  her 
in  check  with  his  hand,  looked  far  ahead  at  the  roofs 
of  the  city  beyond.  Through  his  mind  there  passed  in 
review  the  incidents  of  the  day,  the  memory  of  his 
business  just  concluded,  the  speculation  of  the  future 
of  the  army,  the  contemplation  of  his  reception  by 
Marjorie. 

He  had  been  away  for  more  than  a  month.  During 
that  time  he  was  engaged  in  business  of  the  gravest 
nature.  Many  hours  had  been  spent  in  the  company 
of  the  Commander-in-chief  before  whom  he  had  laid 
an  account  of  his  varied  activities  in  the  city.  The 
proposed  plan  for  the  formation  of  the  regiment  of 
Roman  Catholic  Volunteers,  with  all  its  ramifications 
and  side  issues,  together  with  an  account  of  his  own 
adventures  in  its  respect,  was  reported  faithfully  and 
accurately  to  his  superior.  The  person  of  John  Ander- 
son, his  suspicions  concerning  him,  the  strangely  formed 
friendship  of  the  spy  with  the  Military  Governor,  were 
indicated  with  only  that  amount  of  reserve  necessary 
to  distinguish  a  moral  from  an  absolute  certitude. 
Events  had  moved  with  great  rapidity,  yet  he  felt  as- 
sured that  the  real  crisis  was  only  now  impending,  for 
which  reason  he  desired  to  return  to  the  city  so  as  to 
be  ready  for  any  service  which  might  be  required. 

"Go  along,  girl.    We  want  to  reach  home  by  noon." 

Dolly  heeded  him  and  began  to  canter. 

Washington  had  not  taken  kindly  to  his  suggestion 
for  the  recall  of  General  Arnold's  command;  in  fact 
he  had  treated  the  proposal  with  a  scorn  worthy  of  his 


THE  LOYALIST  359 

strong  sense  and  dauntless  courage.  It  was  plain  to  be 
seen  that  His  Excellency  had  placed  much  reliance  and 
confidence  in  his  favorite  officer.  It  was  impossible  to 
create  so  much  as  a  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  him,  who 
had  been  compelled  to  endure  irksome  suppression  at 
the  hands  of  a  cabalistic  and  jealous  military  party, 
and  who,  for  that  very  reason,  took  a  magnanimous 
view  of  the  plight  of  one  beset  with  similar  persecu- 
tions. General  Arnold  was  in  his  eyes  a  brave  and 
fearless  leader,  but  one  unfortunately  annoyed  and 
tormented  by  the  machinations  of  an  ungrateful  and 
intolerant  populace. 

And  so  when  it  came  to  pass  that  the  one  General, 
whom  he  had  admired  and  trusted,  applied  for  an 
active  command  in  the  field,  General  Washington  cor- 
dially granted  the  request.  If  the  wounded  limb  would 
permit  it,  there  was  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  His  Excel- 
lency that  General  Arnold  would  prove  the  most  heroic 
and  able  officer  along  the  line.  Lincoln  was  gone,  hav- 
ing been  forced  to  surrender  with  his  entire  army  at 
Charleston  only  six  weeks  before.  Green  was  engaged 
with  the  army  in  the  Carolinas;  Gates  was  a  coward; 
Lee,  a  traitor.  In  the  important  operations  which 
were  soon  to  take  place  with  the  main  army  in  the 
vicinity  of  New  York,  Arnold  was  the  leader  best 
qualified  for  the  task.  Washington  took  extreme  de- 
light in  appointing  him  to  the  command  of  the  Right 
Wing  of  his  own  army  and  the  Second  in  Command  of 
the  Continental  forces. 

It  was  with  genuine  reluctance  that  he  consented  to 
listen  to  the  strange  story  as  unfolded  by  his  aide-de- 
camp, Captain  Meagher.  That  General  Arnold  should 
openly  countenance  rebellion  was  preposterous;  to  be- 
come a  party  to  it  was  incredible.  Yet  the  veracity  of 


360  THE  LOYALIST 

his  aide  was  unquestionable,  and  the  wealth  of  evidence 
which  he  had  presented  left  little  room  for  doubt. 
Still  Washington's  faith  was  unshaken.  He  felt  as- 
sured that  his  favorite  General  would  redeem  himself 
when  the  proper  time  came.  And  every  encourage- 
ment for  this  redemption  would  be  afforded  him. 

West  Point  was  open.  He  would  recall  the  order 
appointing  him  to  the  command  of  the  army  and  make 
him  commander  of  the  fortification  there.  The  exi- 
gencies of  the  times  required  a  man  of  rare  ability  and 
genius  at  this  post.  Should  there  prove  to  be  a  shadow 
of  truth  in  the  allegations  of  his  aide,  the  change  of 
command  would  simplify  the  situation  from  whatever 
viewpoint  it  might  be  regarded.  The  country  might 
be  preserved,  and  Arnold's  ambition  at  the  same  time 
given  another  opportunity. 

Stephen  ruminated  over  these  events  as  he  rode  lei- 
surely along.  A  genuine  satisfaction  was  derived  from 
the  knowledge  that  his  chief's  confidence  in  him  was 
still  unshaken.  He  felt  that  he  had  effected  a  change 
of  post  for  the  man  whom,  above  all  other  men,  Wash- 
ington most  admired  and  respected;  nevertheless  he 
felt  that  at  the  same  time  he  was  only  executing  a 
service  which  would  ultimately  prove  to  be  of  incal- 
culable value  to  the  army  and  the  nation.  Arnold 
troubled  him,  but  in  command  of  a  fortress  he  would 
occasion  infinitely  less  worry  and  apprehension  than  in 
a  responsible  position  in  the  field. 

Marjorie  delighted  him.  At  Morristown  he  had 
found  her  letter;  and  his  plans  for  the  immediate  pres- 
ent underwent  a  decided  alteration.  He  had  been 
ordered  to  make  the  journey  to  Hartford  in  attend- 
ance upon  General  Washington,  who  had  already  com- 
pleted arrangements  with  Count  Rochambeau  and 


THE  LOYALIST  361 

Admiral  Ternay  of  the  French  navy  for  a  conference 
there  in  reference  to  the  proposed  naval  operations  of 
the  combined  fleets.  With  the  letter  in  his  hand  he 
had  sought  and  obtained  a  further  leave  of  absence 
from  his  Commander-in-chief  in  order  that  his  own 
campaign  for  the  winning  of  the  lady  of  his  heart 
might  be  brought  to  a  quick  and  decisive  termination. 

He  had  left  the  city,  not  hurt  nor  wounded  as  she 
had  supposed,  but  somewhat  disappointed  at  the  man- 
ner of  her  expression.  Her  apparent  coolness  and  un- 
concern he  had  ascribed  rather  to  her  extreme  diffi- 
dence and  shyness  than  to  want  of  appreciation  or  sin- 
cerity. That  she  truly  cared  for  him,  he  knew  full 
well;  that  he  would  eventually  win  her  to  him  was  a 
faltering  conviction.  But,  now,  there  was  no  further 
doubt.  She  had  written  him  pages  into  which  she  had 
poured  out  her  heart  in  generous  and  unmistakable 
accents,  and  which  he  had  read  and  re-read  with  grow- 
ing delight. 

Washington  could  not  refuse  his  request.  He  made 
no  attempt  to  conceal  the  nature  of  his  mission  and 
obtained  not  alone  His  Excellency's  gracious  permis- 
sion but  his  sincere  wishes  for  success  as  well.  With  a 
heart  buoyant  with  joy  and  anticipation  he  spurred  on 
his  mare  and  pushed  her  to  her  worth  in  the  direction 
of  the  city  and  the  object  of  his  quest. 

II 

He  rode  into  the  city  well  aware  that  the  first  news 
to  reach  him  would  be  that  of  the  exodus  of  the 
Arnolds. 

"You  came  straight  through  town,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Stephen. 


362  THE  LOYALIST 

"And  came  here  direct?"  continued  Mr.  Allison. 

"I  quartered  my  mare,  first.  I  thought  immediately 
of  the  Inn  as  the  place  to  gather  the  news.  So  I 
hastened  hither." 

"There's  been  heaps  doin',"  Jim  remarked  casually. 

"Never  saw  such  excitement  since  the  day  of  the 
regiment,"  observed  the  keeper  of  the  Inn,  a  well- 
mannered  and  well-educated  gentleman,  above  middle 
age,  who  held  the  enviable  position  of  inn-keeper  and 
lawyer  alike.  Every  inn-keeper  of  this  age  commanded 
much  of  respect  in  the  community,  for  it  was  he  who 
received  the  money  of  the  people,  and  money  com- 
manded  the  necessities  of  life — a  good  bed,  good 
things  to  eat,  attentive  servants;  but  Mr.  Smith,  the 
keeper  of  the  Old  London  Coffee  House,  was  the  most 
respectable  inn-keeper  in  the  city,  the  proud  possessor 
of  a  very  pretty  library  and  an  excellent  table  where 
cleanliness  and  decency  vied  with  dignity  and  self- 
respect. 

"Arnold,  you  know,  has  left  the  city,"  volunteered 
Mr.  Allison. 

"Yes,  I  have  surmised,"  was  the  reply. 

"Gone,  an'  all  belongin'  to  'im." 

"And  closed  his  mansion?"  Stephen  inquired. 

"Tight.  Mrs.  Arnold  went  with  him.  They  left 
yesterday." 

"But  I  thought " 

"To  the  army?  I  understand  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed to  field  duty  under  Washington.  Second  in 
Command,  they  say.  But  that  has  been  changed.  He 
has  gone  to  West  Point." 

Stephen  did  not  answer. 

"It  seems,"  went  on  Mr.  Allison,  "that  he  has  been 
seeking  a  change  of  post  for  several  months.  His  leg 


THE  LOYALIST  363 

still  bothers  him,  however,  and  very  likely  prevented 
him  from  doing  active  duty  in  the  field.  On  that  ac- 
count, it  has  been  said,  he  was  given  charge  of  the 
fortress.  It  is  an  important  post,  nevertheless,  and 
carries  with  it  a  certain  amount  of  distinction." 

"Hope  he  gits  along  better  with  'em  up  there  'n  he 
did  here,"  remarked  Jim.  "He  won't  hev  the  s'ciety 
folks  t'  bother  'im  now." 

"When  did  he  leave?" 

"No  one  knows.  There  was  no  demonstration  of- 
any  kind.  It  differed  much  from  the  farewell  of  Gen- 
eral Howe.  Arnold  left  in  disgrace,  it  would  seem," 
said  the  Inn-keeper,  as  he  moved  away  to  give  his  at- 
tention to  other  business. 

"And  Peggy  gone,  too?"  Stephen  was  genuinely 
surprised  at  this,  for  he  rather  expected  that  she  would 
remain  with  her  mother. 

"I  am  sure  that  the  majority  of  our  people  are 
greatly  pleased  at  the  change,"  said  Mr.  Allison.  "I 
never  saw  one  sink  to  such  depths  of  contempt.  He 
came  to  the  city  as  Military  Governor  in  a  blaze  of 
triumph,  the  most  celebrated  soldier  in  the  army,  whose 
rise  to  popular  esteem  was  only  accelerated  by  the 
knowledge  of  the  harsh  treatment  received  by  him  at 
the  hands  of  Congress  after  the  battle  of  Saratoga. 
He  was  the  idol  alike  of  soldiers  and  civilians.  Their 
hearts  were  his  without  the  asking.  That  was  two 
years  ago.  Today  he  left  the  city  in  the  fullness  of 
his  years,  in  secret,  after  so  many  plaudits,  in  obloquy, 
after  so  much  honor." 

"It  is  a  sad  commentary  on  human  nature,"  Stephen 
observed.  "Yet  in  all  things  else  I  blame  the  woman. 
'Cherchez  la  femme.'  ' 

The  room  already  was  reeky  from  the  clouds  of 


364  THE  LOYALIST 

tobacco  smoke  streaming  upwards  from  the  pipes  of 
the  several  guests  who  were  lounging  in  small  groups 
about  the  room.  There  were  severaljDarties  in  as  many 
corners,  each  wholly  unconcerned  about  the  other.  The 
conversation  of  our  trio  was  therefore  private  insofar 
as  any  privacy  can  be  expected  in  an  inn.  Only  the 
boisterous  individual  made  himself  heard,  and  then 
only  to  the  displeasure  of  the  others. 

Leaving  the  two  at  the  Inn,  Stephen  bade  them  adieu 
and  directed  his  journey  in  the  direction  of  Second 
Street.  Hastening  his  steps  he  soon  reached  the 
Germantown  road,  and  as  he  turned  the  bend  perceived 
the  familiar  outline  of  the  Allison  home.  Little  did  he 
suspect,  however,  that  the  curtains  of  one  of  the  upper 
windows  concealed  a  lithe  form  and  that  his  swift  gait 
was  being  interpreted  with  a  world  of  meaning.  He 
laid  his  hand  on  the  gate,  and  even  then  Marjorie  had 
opened  the  door  to  meet  him. 

Ill 

"First  of  all,"  she  said,  "how  long  may  you  remain? 
Will  you  dine  with  us,  or  what?" 

"I  shall  be  most  pleased.  I  have  several  days.  His 
Excellency  has  gone  to  Hartford  to  engage  in  confer- 
ence. It  was  intended  that  I  should  accompany  the 
staff.  I  begged  leave,  however,  to  return  to  Philadel- 
phia." 

They  were  seated  on  the  sofa  in  the  distant  corner 
of  the  parlor.  They  were  quite  alone  now  for  the  first 
time,  the  mother  having  asked  to  be  excused  after 
many  minutes  with  the  announcement  that  since  he 
would  be  pleased  to  remain,  the  supper  must  needs  be 


THE  LOYALIST  365 

prepared.  No,  Marjorie  need  not  help  her.  She 
might  entertain  Captain  Meagher. 

"It's  glorious  to  see  you  again,"  he  said,  sitting  down 
beside  her  after  Mrs.  Allison  had  departed  from  the 
room. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  replied  softly,  rub- 
bing her  hand  across  her  apron  as  if  to  arrange  it 
neatly. 

"But  you  knew  that  I  would  come,  didn't  you?" 

"I  thought  so." 

"And  yet  I  greatly  feared  that  it  would  not  be  pos- 
sible. Preparations  are  being  made  for  the  final  cam- 
paign, and  it  is  expected  that  the  French  will  be  asked 
to  play  an  important  part." 

"It  was  very  generous  of  His  Excellency  to  grant 
you  leave." 

He  began  to  smile. 

"Could  you  guess  how  I  obtained  it?"  he  asked. 

She  turned  to  regard  him. 

"What  have  you  done?"  she  asked  soberly. 

"Showed  him  your  letter." 

"Stephen!"  she  gasped  as  she  drew  back. 

Neither  spoke.  He  continued  to  smile  at  her  ap- 
parent concern,  while  she  stared  at  him. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  she  asked;  then  quickly — "or 
are  you  teasing?" 

"I  did.  I  showed  the  letter  to  him,  and  asked  if  I 
might  return  to  you." 

"He  read  it?" 

"There!  There!  I  am  joking.  He  did  not  read 
it,  but  I  did  have  it  in  my  hand,  and  I  told  him  about 
you  and  that  I  was  going  back  to  take  you  with  me." 

Satisfied,  she  allowed  herself  to  assume  a  more  re- 
laxed composure. 


3  66  THE  LOYALIST 

.  "You  are  going  to  destroy  it,  aren't  you?" 

He  took  it  from  his  pocket  and  looked  at  it.  She, 
too,  glanced  at  it,  and  then  at  him. 

"May  I  keep  it?  I  treasure  every  word  of  it,  you 
know." 

"Did  you  but  know  how  it  was  composed,  you  might 
ridicule  me." 

"I  suppose  you  closed  yourself  behind  some  great 
veil  to  shut  out  the  world  from  your  view.  Your  mind 
toiled  with  thought  until  you  were  resolved  upon  the 
heroic.  There  was  no  scheme  nor  formula;  your  quill 
ran  on  and  on  in  obedience  to  the  flood  of  ideas  which 
inspired  it." 

She  lapsed  into  meditation;  but  she  recovered  her- 
self immediately. 

"No,"  she  shook  her  head  slowly  though  steadily. 
"At  midnight  with  the  aid  of  a  little  candle  which 
burned  itself  out  quite  before  the  end." 

He  looked  up  sharply. 

"That  night?" 

She  nodded. 

He  put  his  arms  around  her  and  drew  her  close. 
She  made  no  resistance,  but  allowed  herself  to  fall  into 
his  embrace. 

"Marjoriel"  he  whispered. 

She  yielded  both  her  hands  to  his  grasp  and  felt 
them  compressed  within  it. 

"You  were  not  hurt  at  my  seeming  indiscretion?" 

"I  told  you  in  my  letter  that  I  was  not." 

"Then  you  do  love  me?" 

She  drew  back  a  little  as  if  to  glance  at  him. 

"You  know  that  I  do,"  was  the  soft,  reassuring 
answer. 

"Won't  you  let  me  hear  you  say  it?"  he  pleaded. 


THE  LOYALIST  367 

Reaching  out,  she  put  both  arms  about  him  and 
offered  her  lips  to  his,  whispering  at  the  same  time 
only  what  he  was  destined  to  hear. 

Presently  the  old  clock  began  to  strike  the  hour  of 
five. 


CHAPTER  VI 


"Father!  Father!  Where  are  you?  Arnold  has 
betrayed!  He  has  betrayed  his  country!" 

Breathless,  Marjorie  rushed  into  the  hallway,  leav- 
ing the  door  ajar  behind  her.  It  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon of  a  September  day.  The  air  was  soft  and  hazy, 
tempered  with  just  the  chill  of  evening  that  comes  at 
this  time  of  the  year  before  sundown. 

More  than  two  months  had  passed,  months  crowded 
with  happiness  which  had  filled  her  life  with  fancy. 
Her  engagement  to  Captain  Meagher  had  been  an- 
nounced, quietly  and  simply;  their  marriage  was  to 
take  place  in  the  fall.  Day  after  day  sped  by  and  hid 
themselves  in  the  records  of  time  until  the  event,  anx- 
iously awaited,  yet  equally  dreaded,  was  but  a  bare 
month  distant.  It  would  be  a  quiet  affair  after  all, 
with  no  ostentation  or  display;  but  that  would  in  no 
wise  prevent  her  from  looking  her  prettiest. 

And  so  on  this  September  afternoon  while  she  was 
visiting  the  shops  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  what- 
ever tempting  and  choice  bits  of  ware  they  might  have 
to  offer,  she  thought  she  heard  the  blast  of  a  trumpet 
from  the  direction  of  the  balcony  of  the  old  Governor's 
Mansion.  Attracted  by  the  sound,  which  recalled  to 
her  mind  a  former  occasion  when  the  news  of  the 
battle  of  Monmouth  was  brought  to  the  city  by  courier 
and  announced  to  the  public,  she  quickened  her  steps 

368 


THE  LOYALIST  369 

in  the  direction  of  the  venerable  building.  True,  a 
man  was  addressing  the  people  who  had  congregated 
beneath  the  balcony.  Straining  every  faculty  she 
caught  the  awful  news. 

Straightway  she  sped  homewards,  running  as  often 
as  her  panting  breath  would  allow.  She  did  not  wait 
to  open  the  door,  but  seemed  to  burst  through  it. 

"What  was  that,  child?"  her  father  asked  quickly 
as  he  met  her  in  the  dining-room. 

"Arnold  .  .  .  Arnold  .  .  ."  she  repeated,  waiting 
to  catch  her  breath. 

"Has  betrayed,  you.  say?" 

"West  Point." 

"My  God!    We  are  lost." 

He  threw  his  hands  heavenwards  and  started  across 
the  floor. 

"What  is  it,  Marjorie?"  asked  the  mother,  who 
now  stood  in  the  passageway,  a  corner  of  her  apron 
held  in  both  hands,  a  look  of  wonder  and  suspicion  full 
upon  her. 

"No,  Father!"  the  girl  replied,  apparently  heedless 
of  her  mother's  presence,  "West  Point  is  saved.  Ar- 
nold has  gone." 

"Let  him  go.  But  West  Point  is  still  ours?  Thank 
God!  He  is  with  the  British,  I  suppose?" 

"So  they  say.  The  plot  was  discovered  in  the  nick 
of  time.  His  accomplice  was  captured  and  the  papers 
found  upon  him." 

"When  did  this  happen?" 

"Only  a  few  days  ago.  The  courier  was  dispatched 
at  once  to  the  members  of  Congress.  The  message 
was  delivered  today." 

"And  General  Arnold  tried  to  sell  West  Point  to 
the  British?"  commented  Mrs.  Allison,  who  had  lis- 


370  THE  LOYALIST 

tened  as  long  as  possible  to  the  disconnected  story. 
"A  scoundrel  of  a  man." 

"Three  Americans  arrested  a  suspicious  man  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Tarrytown.  Upon  searching  him 
they  discovered  some  papers  in  the  handwriting  of 
Arnold  containing  descriptions  of  the  fortress.  They 
took  him  for  a  spy." 

"I  thought  as  much,"  said  Mrs.  Allison.  "Didn't 
I  tell  you  that  Arnold  would  do  something  like  that? 
I  knew  it.  I  knew  it." 

"Thank  God  he  is  not  one  of  us,"  was  Mr.  Allison's 
grave  reply.  "His  act  would  only  serve  to  fan  into 
fury  the  dormant  flames  of  Pope  Day." 

"This  is  an  act  of  vengeance,"  Marjorie  reflected. 
"He  never  forgot  his  court-martial,  and  evidently 
sought  his  country's  ruin  in  revenge.  Adversities  he 
could  contend  with;  humiliation  he  could  not  endure." 

The  little  group  presented  a  varied  scene.  The  girl, 
young,  tender,  was  plainly  animated  with  a  strong 
undercurrent  of  excitement  which  thrilled  her  entire 
frame,  flushing  her  cheeks  and  sparkling  in  her  eyes. 
Her  tender  years,  her  inexperience  with  the  world,  her 
guileless  mind  and  frank  open  manner  had  not  yet  pre- 
pared her  for  the  enormity  of  the  crime  which  had  of  a 
sudden  been  flashed  full  upon  her.  For  the  moment 
realization  had  given  way  to  wonder.  She  sensed  only 
the  magnitude  of  the  tragedy  without  its  atrocious  and 
more  insidious  details.  On  the  other  hand  there  was 
the  father,  composed  and  imperturbable,  to  whom  the 
disclosure  of  this  scheme  of  the  blackest  treason  was 
but  another  chapter  added  to  the  year  of  disasters 
which  was  just  coming  to  a  close.  His  more  astute 
mind,  schooled  by  long  experience  with  the  world  and 
its  artifices,  had  taught  him  to  view  the  transit  of 


THE  LOYALIST  371 

events  with  a  certain  philosophy,  a  sort  of  pragmatic 
philosophy,  with  reference  to  the  causes  and  the  results 
of  events  and  how  they  bore  on  the  practical  utility  of 
all  concerned;  and  finally  the  mother,  who  in  her  de- 
vout and  pious  way,  saw  only  the  Holy  Will  of  God 
working  in  all  things  for  His  own  praise  and  glory. 

"And  they  found  the  dispatches  in  his  own  writ- 
ing?" the  father  asked  deliberately. 

"In  his  stockings,  beneath  the  soles  of  his  feet." 

Again  there  was  silence. 

"He  is  a  prisoner?" 

"Of  course.  He  was  arrested  for  a  spy.  They  say 
he  is  an  Adjutant  in  the  British  army.  He  was  in  full 
disguise." 

"Hm!" 

Mr.  Allison  set  his  lips. 

"I  think,"  continued  Marjorie,  "that  it  was  the  effect 
of  a  stroke  of  good  fortune.  He  was  taken  by  three 
men  who  were  lying  in  wait  for  robbers.  Otherwise 
he  might  have  continued  his  journey  in  safety  and  the 
plot  would  have  succeeded." 

"Thank  God  and  His  Blessed  Mother!"  breathed 
Mrs.  Allison  as  she  clasped  her  hands  together  before 
her  in  an  attitude  of  prayer. 

"And  Arnold?"  methodically  asked  Mr.  Allison. 

"He  escaped  to  the  British  lines.  I  do  not  know 
how,  but  it  seems  that  he  has  departed.  The  one  im- 
portant item,  which  pleased  and  interested  the  people, 
was  the  capture  of  the  spy  and  the  frustration  of  the 
plot." 

The  father  left  the  chair  and  began  to  pace  the 
room,  his  hands  behind  him. 

"It  is  a  bad  blow.  Too  bad!  Too  bad!"  he  re- 
peated. "I  do  not  like  it,  for  it  will  destroy  the  cour« 


372  THE  LOYALIST 

age  and  confidence  of  our  people.  Arnold  was  the  idol 
of  the  army,  and  I  fear  that  his  defection  will  create  a 
great  change  of  heart." 

"The  army  will  be  better  off  without  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Allison. 

"I  agree  with  you,"  was  the  reply.  "But  the  people 
may  decide  in  a  different  manner.  There  is  reason  for 
worry." 

"What  was  the  effect  of  Lee's  attempted  treason?" 
spoke  up  Marjorie.  "The  people  loathe  him,  and  he 
will  die  an  outcast." 

"There  is  no  punishment  too  severe  for  Lee.  He 
has  been  from  the  start  nothing  but  a  selfish  adven- 
turer. But  the  cases  are  not  parallel.  Lee  was  never 
popular  with  the  army.  Arnold,  you  must  remember, 
was  the  most  successful  leader  in  the  field  and  the 
officer  most  prized  by  the  Commander-in-chief." 

"Nevertheless  he  will  sink  as  fast  as  he  climbed,  I 
think.  The  country  must  not  tolerate  a  traitor." 

"Must  not!  But  will  not  the  circumstance  alter  the 
case?  I  say  that  unless  the  proofs  of  Arnold's  treason 
are  irrefutable,  the  people  will  be  slow  to  believe.  I 
don't  like  it.  I  don't." 

There  was  some  logic  in  his  argument  which  began 
to  impress  Marjorie.  Arnold  could  exercise  a  tre- 
mendous amount  of  influence  over  the  army.  Whether 
the  strings  of  loyalty  which  had  united  their  hearts 
with  his  would  be  now  snapped  by  his  act  of  perfidy 
was  the  mooted  question.  As  a  matter  of  fact  a  spirit 
of  mutiny  already  was  beginning  to  make  itself  mani- 
fest. The  soldiers  of  Pennsylvania  who  were  en- 
camped on  the  heights  of  Morristown  marched  out  of 
camp  the  following  January  and  set  out  for  Philadel- 
phia. They  were  rebuked  by  Washington,  who  sent  a 


THE  LOYALIST  373 

letter  by  General  Wayne,  whereupon  they  returned  to 
their  posts.  Later  in  the  same  month  another  mutiny 
occurred  among  the  New  Jersey  troops,  but  this,  too, 
was  quickly  suppressed.  Just  how  much  responsibility 
for  these  uprisings  might  be  traced  to  the  treason  of 
Arnold  can  not  be  estimated.  There  is  no  question, 
however,  that  his  act  was  not  wholly  unproductive  of 
its  psychological  effects. 

"I  feel  so  sorry  for  Peggy,"  Marjorie  sighed. 

"The  young  wife  has  a  sore  burden  thrown  upon 
her.  A  sorry  day  it  was  when  she  met  him,"  was  Mrs. 
Allison's  comment. 

"Strange,  I  never  suspected  Peggy  for  a  moment," 
Marjorie  said.  "I  had  been  raised  with  her  and 
thought  we  knew  each  other.  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry." 

"We  do  not  know  how  much  she  is  concerned  with 
this,"  announced  Mr.  Allison,  "but  her  ambition  knew 
no  restraint  or  limitation.  She  has  her  peerage  now." 

"And  her  husband?" 

"The  grave  of  a  traitor,  the  sole  immortality  of 
degraded  ambition,  religious  prejudice,  treason  and 
infamy." 

"God  help  him!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Allison. 

II 

In  July,  1780,  General  Arnold  had  been  placed  in 
command  of  West  Point;  two  months  later  he  was  safe 
on  board  the  British  sloop-of-war,  Vulture.  He  had 
attempted  to  betray  his  country;  he  received  in  ex- 
change six  thousand  pounds  sterling,  together  with  a 
brigadiership  in  the  British  Army. 

From  the  time  he  left  Philadelphia  until  the  morn- 
ing of  his  flight  he  had  kept  up  a  continual  correspond- 


374  THE  LOYALIST 

ence  with  John  Anderson.  Information  was  at  length 
conveyed  to  him  that  Sir  Henry  Clinton  was  in  posses- 
sion of  advices  that  the  American  Commander-in-chief 
contemplated  an  advance  on  New  York  by  way  of 
King's  Bridge.  Clinton's  scheme  would  allow  the  army 
of  General  Washington  to  move  upon  the  city,  having 
collected  all  his  magazines  at  the  fortification  at  West 
Point,  but  at  a  given  moment  Arnold  was  expected  to 
surrender  the  fort  and  garrison  and  compel  the  army 
of  Washington  to  retire  immediately  or  else  suffer 
capture  in  the  field. 

Still  Arnold  felt  that  everything  was  not  quite  settled 
between  Sir  Henry  and  himself,  and  wrote  accordingly, 
advising  that  a  written  guarantee  be  forwarded  or  de- 
livered in  person  to  him  by  an  officer  of  Sir  Henry's 
staff  of  his  own  mensuration.  He  was  informed  by 
way  of  reply  that  the  necessary  meeting  might  be 
arranged,  and  that  the  emissary  would  be  the  Adjutant' 
General  of  the  British  Army. 

Accordingly  the  British  sloop  Vulture  moved  up  the 
river  as  far  as  Stony  Point,  bearing  the  Adjutant- 
General.  Arnold  had  fixed  on  the  house  of  Joshua 
Smith  as  the  place  for  the  meeting.  On  the  night  of 
the  twenty-first  of  September,  he  sent  a  boat  to  the 
Vulture  which  brought  the  emissary  shore.  In  a  thick 
grove  of  cedars,  in  the  shroud  of  the  blackest  night, 
Arnold  waited  the  return  of  the  rowboat,  its  oars 
muffled  with  sheepskins,  its  passenger  on  board.  The 
latter  sprang  lightly  to  the  shore,  his  large  blue  watch- 
coat  and  high  boots  alone  visible.  As  he  climbed  the 
bank  and  approached  the  grove,  he  threw  back  his 
cloak  and  revealed  the  full  British  uniform  of  a  gen- 
eral officer. 

"Anderson?"  Arnold  exclaimed.     "You?" 


THE  LOYALIST  375 

"No !     Andre,  Major  Andre,"  was  the  reply. 

"Hm!  I  thought  as  much.  I  suspected  you  from 
the  moment  I  met  you  in  Philadelphia." 

"Come.  Let  us  finish.  I  must  return  before  day- 
break." 

"Where  is  your  disguise?  I  advised  you  to  come  in 
disguise." 

He  understood  the  piercing  glance. 

"I  have  come  thus  under  General  Clinton's  orders," 
was  the  reply.  "My  safety  lies  in  open  uniform." 

"Let  it  go  at  that.  Here!  I  have  with  me  the 
plans  of  West  Point,  together  with  a  full  inventory  of 
its  armament  and  stores  and  a  roster  of  its  garrison." 

Andre  took  the  papers  and  glanced  at  them  as  best 
he  could  by  means  of  the  lantern  light. 

"But  I  do  not  see  here  a  written  promise  to  sur- 
render the  fortress?" 

"No!  Nor,  by  Heaven,  you  shall  not  receive  it," 
Arnold  snapped.  "I  have  given  my  word.  That  is 
enough.  I  have  already  placed  myself  in  your  hands 
by  these  plans  and  inventories  made  in  my  own  hand- 
writing. This  is  all.  .  .  .  No  more." 

"General  Washington  visits  here  on  Saturday?" 

"Yes." 

"The  surrender  must  take  place  that  night." 

Arnold  looked  fiercely  at  him.  This  was  one  matter 
which  seemed  intolerable.  To  betray  his  country  was. 
treason;  to  betray  his  sole  friend  and  benefactor  was 
unknown  to  him  by  any  name  in  the  English  language. 
He  refused  absolutely.  Andre  insisted,  and  the  dis- 
cussion became  violent. 

Neither  became  aware  of  the  dawn  which  was  about 
to  break  through  the  thicket  of  fir-trees  which  bounded 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  Hudson.  Still  the  details  had 


376  THE  LOYALIST 

not  been  arranged;  the  matter  of  Arnold's  reward  was 
still  unsettled.  There  had  been  various  promises  of 
compensation,  maintenance  of  military  rank,  a  peer- 
age or  a  viceroyalty  in  one  of  the  colonies,  but  Andre 
was  empowered  to  offer  no  more  than  compensation 
and  military  rank.  With  the  dawning  light,  the  boat- 
men became  alarmed  and  refused  to  take  Andre  back 
to  his  ship,  with  the  result  that  the  two  conspirators 
were  obliged  to  pass  the  time  until  the  next  night  in 
the  house  of  Joshua  Smith. 

It  so  happened  that  the  day  brought  to  pass  an  un- 
foreseen accident.  Livingston,  the  Colonel  of  "Con- 
gress' Own,"  in  command  of  the  batteries  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  river  at  Verplanck's  Point,  opened 
fire  upon  the  Vulture,  compelling  her  to  drop  down 
the  river.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  for  Major 
Andre  to  proceed  by  land  down  the  opposite  shore 
until  he  had  met  with  his  vessel,  and  so  late  at  night 
he  departed,  his  uniform  and  coat  exchanged  for  a 
disguise,  the  six  papers  in  Arnold's  handwriting 
crammed  between  his  stockings  and  feet. 

It  also  happened,  by  a  strange  irony  of  fate,  that  a 
party  of  American  soldiers  had  set  out  that  very  morn- 
ing to  intercept  a  band  of  robbers  who  had  infested 
the  roadways  of  this  neighborhood,  and  who  had  ren- 
dered the  highways  impassable  because  of  their  dep- 
redations. Near  Tarrytown,  three  of  this  party  con- 
fronted a  passing  traveler,  and  leveling  their  muskets 
at  him,  ordered  him  to  halt.  They  were  obeyed  on 
the  instant,  and  because  of  the  suspicious  manner  of 
the  stranger,  a  complete  search  of  him  was  made.  The 
set  of  papers  was  found  in  their  hiding  place,  and  he 
was  placed  under  arrest,  and  sent  to  North  Castle. 
There  the  papers  were  examined,  and  instead  of  being 


THE  LOYALIST  377 

sent  to  General  Arnold  himself,  were  forwarded  to 
His  Excellency,  who  was  known  to  be  lodged  at  West 
Point.  At  the  same  time  a  complementary  letter  was 
sent  to  General  Arnold,  informing  him  of  what  had 
taken  place. 

He  was  at  breakfast  when  the  news  was  brought 
him.  The  letter  was  crumbled  in  his  hand  as  he  hastily 
arose  from  the  table  and  rushed  to  Peggy's  room  where 
he  acquainted  her  of  his  fate.  She  screamed  and 
fainted.  He  stooped  to  kiss  his  sleeping  child;  then 
rushing  from  the  house  was  soon  mounted  and  on  his 
way  to  the  place  where  he  knew  a  barge  had  been 
anchored.  Jumping  aboard  he  ordered  the  oarsmen 
to  take  him  to  the  Vulture,  eighteen  miles  down  the 
river.  Next  morning  he  was  safe  within  the  enemy's 
lines  at  New  York. 

ill 

The  minute  details  of  the  attempted  plot  had  not 
filtered  into  Philadelphia  when  a  demonstration  had 
begun  in  celebration  of  its  frustration.  Spontaneously 
and  exuberantly  the  citizens  of  the  city  gathered  in 
the  public  square  and  for  several  hours  the  joy-making 
continued  with  unabated  energy  and  enthusiasm.  Like 
a  flash  it  seemed  that  the  full  realization  of  what  this 
news  had  meant  broke  like  a  rushing  tide  upon  their 
consciousness.  The  country  had  been  threatened;  but 
the  danger  had  been  averted. 

In  a  few  hours  the  streets  were  mad  with  hundreds 
of  people  singing  and  shouting  and  marching  in  unre- 
strained glee.  Bulletins  had  been  posted  in  the  public 
square  acquainting  the  people  of  the  great  facts,  yet 
this  did  not  begin  to  equal  the  amount  of  news  which 


378  THE  LOYALIST 

had  been  relayed  from  mouth  to  mouth  and  grew  in 
detail  and  magnitude  as  it  went.  Chains,  trays,  broken 
iron  were  dragged  in  rattling  bundles  up  and  down  the 
streets  amid  the  laughs  and  cheers  of  the  mass  of  hu- 
manity that  had  swarmed  upon  the  roadways  and  side- 
walks. 

Marjorie  and  her  father  were  among  the  early  ar- 
rivals on  Market  Street.  Little  by  little  items  of  in- 
formation came  to  them  as  they  alternately  talked  with 
their  many  acquaintances.  Out  of  the  many  and  varied 
accounts  one  or  two  points  had  stood  out  prominently 
— Arnold  had  attempted  to  surrender  the  fortress 
while  Washington  was  lodged  there  in  the  hope  that 
complete  disaster  would  befall  the  American  cause;  he 
had  completed  negotiations  with  the  British  emissary, 
who  was  known  as  Major  Andre,  whom  the  people  of 
Philadelphia  associated  with  the  person  of  John  Ander- 
son, a  frequent  visitor  of  the  Arnolds  during  their  stay 
in  the  city;  the  officer  had  been  taken  prisoner  by  the 
American  forces  and  the  papers  found  upon  him;  while 
Arnold  and  his  wife  had  escaped  to  the  British  forces 
in  the  city  of  New  York. 

When  the  gayety  seemed  to  have  attained  its  climax, 
a  procession  began  to  wend  its  way  through  the  howl- 
ing crowd.  There  was  no  attempt  at  regular  forma- 
tion, the  multitude  trailing  along  in  whatever  order 
seemed  most  desirable  to  them.  In  the  midst  of  the 
line  of  march,  two  gaunt  figures  towered  aloft  over 
the  heads  of  the  marchers,  the  one  bearing  a  placard 
upon  which  was  scrawled  the  name  "Arnold  the 
traitor,"  the  other,  "Andre  the  spy."  These  were 
carried  with  great  acclaim  several  times  around  the 
city  until  the  procession  rested  at  the  square,  where 
amid  cheers  and  huzzas  they  were  publicly  burned. 


THE  LOYALIST  379 

This  seemed  to  satisfy  the  crowd,  for  they  gradually 
began  to  disperse.  The  hour  was  late  and  Marjorie 
and  her  father  journeyed  homewards,  passing  the 
watchman  at  the  corner  as  he  announced  the  hour, 
"Eleven  o'clock  and  Arnold  is  burned." 

The  state  bordering  on  frenzy  into  which  the  mob 
had  been  cast  was  responsible,  for  the  most  part,  for 
the  violence  of  the  celebration,  nevertheless  there 
stood  many  sober  and  composed  individuals  apart  from 
the  ranks  who  had  looked  on  in  silent  acquiescence 
during  the  riotous  proceedings.  Arnold  had  fallen  to 
the  lowest  ebb  of  infamy  and  contempt  so  that  even 
his  past  services  were  entirely  forgotten.  There  was 
no  palliation.  There  were  no  extenuating  circum- 
stances. The  enormity  of  his  crime  alone  mattered. 
His  name  could  not  be  mentioned  without  a  shudder. 

Mount  Pleasant  was  not  permitted  to  remain  idle. 
It  soon  was  seized  by  the  city  authorities  and  rented 
to  Baron  Steuben,  the  disciplinarian  of  the  American 
Army  and  the  author  of  its  first  Manual  of  Arms. 
The  household  furniture,  too,  had  been  removed  and 
offered  for  sale  at  public  auction,  while  the  coach  and 
four  was  bought  by  a  trader  at  the  Coffee  House. 
Arnold's  presence  in  the  city  was  now  no  more  than  a 
memory — a  memory,  indeed,  but  a  sad  one. 

"He  would  never  escape  the  fury  of  that  crowd," 
Mr.  Allison  observed  to  his  daughter  as  the  two  jour- 
neyed homewards. 

"They  would  surely  put  him  to  death." 

"If  they  ever  lay  hands  on  him — they  might  perhaps 
cut  off  his  wounded  leg,  but  the  rest  of  him  they  would 
burn." 

She  considered. 

"I  can  scarce  believe  it — it  seems  too  awful." 


380  THE  LOYALIST 

"Well !  I  never  could  see  much  good  in  a  bigot.  A 
man  with  a  truly  broad  and  charitable  soul  has  no 
room  in  him  for  base  designs.  Arnold  would  crucify 
us  if  he  could,  yet  we  have  lived  to  see  him  repudiated 
by  his  own." 

"It  does  seem  after  all  that  God  takes  care  of  His 
own.  Even  the  sparrow  does  not  fall  to  the  ground." 

Plainly  the  spirit  of  the  evening  had  awakened  a 
serious  vein  of  thought  in  the  two.  They  could  take 
no  delight  in  a  tragedy  so  intimately  interwoven  with 
pity  and  compassion.  The  fate  of  the  two  principal 
actors,  the  courageous  Arnold  and  the  ambitious 
Andre,  erstwhile  known  as  Anderson,  could  not  fail  to 
touch  their  hearts.  Their  lot  was  not  enviable;  but  it 
was  lamentable. 

"And  John  Anderson,  too,"  said  Marjorie,  "I  can- 
not believe  it." 

"When  the  truth  is  known,  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
he  will  be  more  pitied  and  less  condemned.  Arnold 
was  the  chief  actor.  Andre  a  mere  pawn." 

"How  brilliant  he  was!  You  remember  his  visits? 
The  afternoon  at  the  piano?" 

"Yes.    He  was  talented.    But  to  what  purpose?" 

"I  am  sorry." 

And  so  were  the  many. 


CHAPTER  VII 


"Stephen,  wilt  thou  take  Marjorie  here  present  for 
thy  lawful  wife,  according  to  the  rite  of  our  Holy 
Mother,  the  Church?" 

Audibly  and  distinctly  icsounded  the  voice  of  Father 
Farmer  throughout  the  little  church  as  he  read  from 
the  Roman  Ritual  the  form  of  the  sacrament  of  Matri- 
mony. 

"I  will,"  answered  Stephen  deliberately. 

"Marjorie,  wilt  thou  take  Stephen  here  present  for 
thy  lawful  husband,  according  to  the  rite  of  our  Holy 
Mother,  the  Church?" 

"I  will,"  was  the  soft  response. 

The  two  then  joined  their  right  hands  and  repeated 
one  after  the  other  the  pledge  by  which  they  took  each 
other  for  man  and  wife;  Stephen  first,  then  Marjorie. 

"I,  Stephen,  take  thee  Marjorie  for  my  lawful  wife, 
to  have  and  to  hold,  from  this  day  forward,  for  better, 
for  worse,  for  richer,  for  poorer,  in  sickness  and  in 
health,  until  death  do  us  part." 

Solemnly  and  reverently  the  priest  raised  his  right 
hand  over  them  as  he  pronounced  the  blessing. 

"Ego  conjungo  vos  in  matrimonium,  in  nomine 
Patris  et  Filii,  et  Spiritus  Sancti,  Amen." 

The  ring  having  been  blessed  before  them,  Stephen 
placed  it  on  Marjorie's  finger  saying  the  prescribed 
words,  after  which  they  awaited  the  prayers  of  the 

381 


382  THE  LOYALIST 

priest.  Father  Farmer  turned  to  the  altar  and  at  once 
began  the  Nuptial  Mass,  according  to  the  ceremony  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  and  pronounced  over  them  the 
Nuptial  Blessing. 

This  made  an  end  of  the  marriage  ceremony. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  feelings  of  Mar- 
jorie  as  she  turned  from  the  sanctuary  and  made  her 
way  down  the  aisle  of  the  little  church.  Her  hand  lay 
on  Stephen's  arm,  but  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were 
hanging  from  it.  She  was  happy;  that,  of  course.  But 
she  thought,  too,  that  she  was  extremely  nervous,  and 
the  more  she  thought  over  herself,  the  more  she  felt 
that  she  appeared  extremely  self-conscious. 

The  church  was  quite  filled  with  friends,  yet  she 
dared  not  look  up  to  measure  its  capacity,  but  guarded 
her  eyes  with  the  strictest  custody.  The  organ  was 
playing  an  appropriate  march  which  she  tried  to  follow 
in  her  mind  in  order  that  she  might  thereby  absorb  the 
greater  part  of  her  attention.  Stephen  was  with  her, 
for  she  could  feel  him,  although  she  was  quite  certain 
that  she  never  laid  an  eye  on  him  during  the  whole 
time.  Her  people  were  there,  so  were  her  many  friends 
and  acquaintances,  and  Stephen's  relatives  and  friends 
as  well,  but  these,  too,  were  absent  as  far  as  her  con- 
centration of  mind  was  concerned.  Only  one  thought 
was  uppermost  in  her  mind  and  that  was  to  leave  the 
church  as  soon  as  possible,  for  she  felt  that  every  eye 
was  focused  upon  her. 

It  had  been  intended  that  the  affair  should  be  charm- 
ingly simple,  both  on  account  of  the  sad  and  melan- 
choly days  through  which  the  country  was  passing  and 
the  natural  tendencies  of  the  parties  concerned  to  avoid 
all  semblance  of  display.  Their  names  had  been  pub- 


THE  LOYALIST  383 

lished  at  three  public  masses;  the  Catholic  Church  re- 
quired that.  They  had  been  married  by  Father  Farmer 
with  a  nuptial  high  mass.  The  wedding  breakfast 
would  be  served  at  the  home  of  the  bride.  But  the 
number  of  invited  guests  would  be  limited  strictly  to 
the  members  of  the  family  and  one  or  two  intimate 
friends  so  as  to  include  Jim  Cadwalader  and  Sergeant 
Griffin.  Furthermore  there  would  be  no  honeymoon 
on  account  of  the  uncertainty  which  invariably  had 
defined  the  duration  of  Stephen's  stay  in  the  city. 

It  was  only  when  the  little  party,  Marjorie  and 
Stephen's  sister,  her  maid  of  honor,  and  Stephen  and 
Sergeant  Griffin,  his  best  man,  had  settled  down  into 
the  coach,  that  Marjorie  for  the  first  time  became  com- 
posed. A  great  sigh  of  relief  escaped  from  her  as  she 
sat  back,  her  bouquet  In  her  hand,  and  looked  at  the 
dispersing  crowd.  She  could  not  tell  yet  whether  she 
was  happy  or  not;  the  excitement  had  not  subsided 
enough  to  allow  her  to  regain  her  self-possession  and 
equanimity.  Stephen  was  by  her  side.  That  was 
about  all  she  knew, — or  cared. 

Stephen  was  in  his  characteristically  reticent  mood. 
Already  had  he  observed  that  he  would  have  endured 
another  Valley  Forge  with  greater  pleasure  than  the 
ordeal  of  a  wedding  ceremony.  Still  he  was  nicely 
dressed  for  the  occasion,  wearing  for  the  first  time  a 
new  full  dress  uniform  of  buff  and  blue.  The  inter- 
ested spectator  might  have  discerned,  too,  that  he 
wore  for  the  first  time  a  new  insignia  of  rank;  for  he 
was  now  a  Major  of  the  Continental  Army,  having 
received  that  promotion,  upon  the  recommendation  of 
His  Excellency,  for  distinguished  service,  together  with 
a  warm  message  of  congratulation  upon  his  approach- 
ing marriage.  Nevertheless  he  was  unmoved  through 


3  84  THE  LOYALIST 

it  all,  betraying  but  one  concern,  and  that  was  admin- 
istration to  the  most  trivial  wants  of  his  blushing  and 
timid  bride. 

It  was  the  time  of  joy,  of  pure,  unalloyed  joy,  yet 
he  could  not  banish  altogether  from  his  mind  the  mem- 
ories of  the  past  two  years,  years  crowded  with  events 
in  his  life  and  that  of  his  beloved.  There  was,  indeed, 
much  to  be  thankful  for,  and  notwithstanding  his  ex- 
ceedingly great  glee  and  the  day  of  gladness  which  had 
dawned  for  him  flooding  his  heart  with  exultation  and 
complacent  satisfaction,  still  a  prayer  of  praise  poured 
forth  from  his  lips  to  the  Giver  of  every  best  and 
perfect  gift. 

The  American  Revolution  had  unfolded  a  wonder- 
ful story,  a  story  of  anti-Catholicism,  of  persecution 
and  prejudice  which  had  resolved  itself  step  by  step 
into  a  state  of  complete  freedom  of  action  and  re- 
ligious liberty.  The  Church  was  at  length  free,  free 
to  gather  her  children  into  congregations  where  she 
might  speak  to  them  and  instruct  them  without  any 
fear.  Now  she  was  at  liberty  to  fulfill  her  mission  of 
winning  souls  to  Christ.  True,  her  children  were  widely 
scattered,  a  bare  twenty-five  thousand  out  of  a  popula- 
tion of  about  three  millions,  whose  wants  were  admin- 
istered to  by  no  more  than  twenty-five  priests.  Yet  out 
of  this  contemptible  little  body  there  emerged  a  people, 
honorable,  respectable,  and  of  such  consequence  as  to 
deserve  commendation  from  the  First  President  for 
"the  patriotic  part  which  you  took  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  their  Revolution  and  the  establishment  of  your 
government,"  as  well  as  causing  to  be  inserted  in  the 
Constitution  of  the  new  republic  the  clause  that  "no  re- 
ligious test  shall  ever  be  required  as  a  qualification  for 
any  office  or  public  trust  under  the  United  States." 


THE  LOYALIST  385 

There  was  of  course  much  to  be  desired;  but  the  foun- 
dations had  been  laid,  and  the  prospect  for  the  future 
was  auspicious. 

And  so  they  rode  through  the  city  streets  joyfully, 
merrily,  light-heartedly.  Conversation,  interspersed 
with  laughter  and  jocularity,  literally  ran  riot,  so  im- 
patiently did  each  attempt  to  relate  what  was  upper- 
most in  his  or  her  mind.  The  ceremony,  the  music, 
the  procession,  the  multitude  obtained  their  due  amount 
of  comment,  until  the  arrival  of  the  coach  at  the  door 
of  the  Allison  home  put  an  end  to  the  session. 

II 

"A  health,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  to  the  bride.  May 
she  live  long  and  never  form  the  acquaintanceship  of 
sorrow!" 

Stephen's  father  had  arisen  from  his  chair  and  with 
his  goblet  held  before  him  addressed  the  company. 

It  was  drunk  with  evident  pleasure.  Then  Mr.  Alli- 
son arose. 

"To  Major  Meagher,  that  his  brilliant  career  be 
only  the  commencement  of  a  life  of  extraordinary 
achievement!" 

This  was  followed  by  a  round  of  applause.  Stephen 
smiled  and  bowed  his  head,  but  it  was  plain  to  be  seen 
that  his  father's  chest  had  expanded  more  than  an 
appreciable  trifle.  Marjorie  was  happy  and  whispered 
a  word  to  her  newly  formed  sister-in-law  who  was 
seated  by  her  side.  It  was  a  jolly  group  who  had  sur- 
rounded the  table,  all  bent  on  doing  honor  to  the  happy 
couple,  but  none  appeared  more  so  than  Jim  Cadwala- 
der  and  his  wife,  Nancy. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  Jim,  "they're  a  right  fine  pair." 


386  THE  LOYALIST 

"I  am  afraid,  Jim,  you  have  not  forgiven  me  quite 
for  excluding  you  from  that  meeting,"  Stephen  sug- 
gested. 

"I'm  the  proud'st  man  this  side  o'  the  river  t'  think 
I  gave  y'  me  clothes.  Y'd  never  got  on  widout  me."" 

There  was  an  outburst  of  laughter. 

"You  would  have  been  captured,  had  you  gone  in 
there.  I  saved  you." 

"Yes,  an'  the  girl,  there,  did  it.  Don't  ye  furgit 
that,  either.  I'll  tell  on  y',"  replied  Jim,  nodding  his 
head  emphatically.  "She  got  me  caught." 

"Jim!"  Marjorie  exclaimed  loudly. 

"Now  do  not  lay  the  blame  on  her,"  Stephen  cau- 
tioned with  a  smile.  "You  yourself  were  only  too  anx- 
ious to  get  there.  You  wanted  to  see  yourself  in  a  new 
uniform." 

"I  did,  then.  I  was  terr'bly  anxious  t'  see  meself 
in  a  red  suit,  wasn't  I?" 

The  company  enjoyed  this  exchange  of  repartee  and 
laughed  continually.  Jim  ever  enjoyed  the  distinction 
of  being  tormented  by  the  members  of  whatever  gath- 
ering he  was  in,  yet  it  was  never  known  when  he  was 
powerless  of  providing  for  himself. 

And  so  they  talked  far  into  the  morning.  They  sat 
in  groups  of  twos  and  threes,  long  after  the  table  had 
been  cleared,  while  the  willing  helpers,  the  good  neigh- 
bors, plied  themselves  industriously  out  in  the  kitchen 
with  the  cleaning  of  the  dishes  and  the  restoration  of 
the  house  again  to  its  proper  order.  Marjorie  and  her 
mother  looked  in  through  the  doorway  from  time  to 
time  at  the  progress  of  the  work,  only  to  be  banished 
as  quickly  by  the  cohort  of  willing  toilers.  For  once 
in  their  lives  the  girl  and  her  fond  mother  mingled 


THE  LOYALIST  387 

entirely  with  the  guests  and  took  their  full  measure  of 
enjoyment  with  the  company. 

As  the  guests  departed  one  after  the  other,  leaving 
behind  them  many  benedictions  and  choice  wishes  for 
the  bride  and  groom,  the  house  settled  down  to  its 
accustomed  quietude  and  uniformity  with  the  imme- 
diate family,  Jim  and  his  wife  alone  remaining.  Jim, 
like  every  recognized  master  in  his  own  household,  sat 
with  his  one  leg  across  the  other,  enjoying  his  tobacco, 
while  his  less  aristocratic  helpmate  took  care  that  the 
kitchen  affairs  were  given  their  due  amount  of  atten- 
tion. With  abatement  of  the  excitement  and  commo- 
tion the  members  of  the  family  betook  themselves  upon 
various  journeys,  the  father  to  look  at  his  fire  so  as  to 
give  it,  if  needed,  a  few  generous  pokes;  the  mother, 
to  the  kitchen  to  add  a  touch  here  and  there  to  the 
arrangement  of  its  utensils;  Marjorie  to  her  room  in 
order  that  she  might  once  more  robe  herself  in  her 
plainer  and  more  habitual  apparel.  The  festivities 
were  at  an  end  and  the  practical  things  of  life  again 
asserted  their  stern  reality. 

HI 

At  length  Stephen  and  Marjorie  were  alone,  alone 
in  their  own  little  world  of  fancies  and  dreams.  They 
were  standing  by  the  upstairs  window  looking  out  at 
the  little  fence  where  they  had  stood  together  more 
than  two  years  before  on  the  afternoon  of  his  arrest. 
Stephen  recalled  his  impressions  of  her  then,  yet  she 
was  more  beautiful  now,  he  thought.  She  had  changed 
her  gown  of  white  for  one  of  pink,  and  as  she  stood 
there,  her  lips  a  little  parted  in  a  tiny  smile,  her  soft 
cheeks  heightened  in  color,  her  bright  eyes  looking  out 


388  THE  LOYALIST 

into  the  memories  of  the  past,  she  seemed  for  all  the 
world  to  Stephen  like  an  enchanted  being. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of,  girlie?"  he  asked  as  he 
stood  behind  her,  his  arm  about  her  waist. 

There  was  no  response. 

"Tell  me,  won't  you?"  he  pleaded. 

She  continued  to  gaze  into  the  roadway. 

"Aren't  you  happy?" 

"Oh!  Yes  .  .  .  Yes  ...  I  was  never  so  happy. 
I  ...  I  ..." 

"What  is  it?  Please,  tell  me.  I  fear  that  you  are 
disturbed  over  something." 

She  did  not  answer  but  turned  and  seized  the  lapels 
of  his  coat  with  both  her  hands.  Then  she  raised  her 
face  to  his  and  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"I  was  thinking  how  much  I  have  really  cared  for 
you  without  ever  knowing  it." 

"Is  that  all?"  he  laughed,  as  he  folded  his  arms 
about  her. 

"And  how  unkind  I  have  been  to  you  all  the  while." 

"There!  There!  You  must  not  say  that  again. 
Promise  me  you  will  not  so  much  as  think  it." 

Again  there  was  silence,  but  only  for  a  moment. 

"But  I  must  have  hurt  you  often.  And  to  think 
that  I  never  realized  it." 

"You  are  happy  now,  aren't  you?" 

She  looked  up  again  with  only  love  in  her  eyes. 

"Stephen !"  she  whispered. 

She  was  lost  in  his  embrace  and  felt  only  his  breath 
against  her  cheek. 

The  world  lived  in  them. 

THE  END 


~  ™" "• "  "in  mil  mil  nil  || 

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